What Lies Beyond the Walls, Book I: The Two Factions
by abstow89
Summary: The world outside of Redwall is never a happy, peaceful place. There are no heroes. There are no villains. There are only those who strive for power, those driven mad by their bloodlust, and those who are willing to do anything to survive another day.
1. Different Approach

**What Lies Beyond the Walls: Book 1**

**A/N:** So after much time and planning, I finally got around to starting on this Redwall fanfic. Expect it to be…different from Brian Jacques' legendary series. Fair warning: be prepared for graphic violence, swearing, some crude, vulgar scenes, some sexual content, and quite possibly attempted rape, or actual rape. I'm not going to sugarcoat this fanfic. You've been warned.

**I**

**Different Approach**

Mossflower. There was a lot that could be said about the forest. It just depended on who you asked. Some would say it's a great place to live, if you know how to fend for yourself, that is. Others would say that the forest is a place festering with beasts and vermin, sociopaths who would backstab their own friends and family just to get what they want. And some beasts would say that Mossflower isn't so bad, despite the vermin lurking around. After all, the forest wasn't all bad; every now and then a kind beast would offer shelter to those without a home, or rescue anybeast in peril merely because they knew it was the right thing to do. And of course, there was always Redwall, the glorious abbey filled with the kindest creatures anybeast could ever meet. There were playful Dibbuns, exquisite, mouth-watering food, amazing architecture, and as always, the famous tapestry of Martin the Warrior. And the Redwallers were so kind and trusting, that they would welcome anybeast with open arms and shelter and care for them without hesitation. Maybe Mossflower wasn't the best place in the country, but everybeast in the forest had to admit that Redwall made things much better.

Broddigan Quarles thought these beasts were full of it. The light brown squirrel knew the difference between reality and fantasy. He knew what Mossflower was like when he wasn't inside the beloved abbey, and even then Broddigan wasn't a big fan of Redwall. The squirrel used to love growing up there, but like every other beast, he eventually came to the conclusion that he was getting older. And as his body became taller, muscular (and eventually, fatter), the squirrel's mind grew as well. He realized that Redwall was just a giant box filled with vittles. Sure, he loved it, but Broddigan knew there was a giant world out there waiting to be explored, and he wasn't going to let his fear of vermin prevent him from doing that. So he trained himself and became skilled with a bow and arrow—so skilled that several other squirrel warriors started calling him "Longbow." He decided to travel the country, helping other beasts whenever he could, and preventing any crises before they happened. Eventually, his name spread throughout Mossflower, and everybeast was well-aware of the great Longbow: one of the forest's most valiant and noble squirrels. And his name would be forever remembered, even long after he died.

But Broddigan knew the difference between reality and fantasy. He _wanted_ to believe he was special. He _wanted_ to believe that Mossflower Woods was a great place to live. But it wasn't, and he isn't. Everybeast saw him as a great role-model and a squirrel no beast should antagonize, but as he sat there in front of a thick log, looking at the large campfire burning in front of him, he knew he was just an aging squirrel who was skilled in archery. It was as simple as that. Broddigan still wandered around Mossflower helping those in need, but it wasn't for the glory, or even because he longed to help others. He just didn't know what else to do with his life. The squirrel knew he'd probably sacrifice his own life just to save some random beast being picked on by vermin. Broddigan sighed heavily at the thought and told himself to stop mulling. He could worry about how his life would end later. Right now he was more focused on keeping an eye out for vermin in the area.

He didn't know where he was, but the air didn't stink of vermin, so at least no tribes had plagued the area. The squirrel picked up a twig and poked at the fire in front of him, watching a few sparks fly up into the air. He exhaled and placed his paws over the fire for warmth, surprised that it was still cold at night even though it was spring. Broddigan blinked a few times before he scratched his face and felt his stomach grumble. He opened up his giant sack filled with food he picked up at Redwall and exhaled. The squirrel pulled out a hazelnut and started to munch on it; he planned on saving the bigger meals like the honeyed nutbread, goatsmilk, and oatmeal bannock for breakfast tomorrow. And since the squirrel was already tired, he didn't see the point in stuffing his face now. …And yet, Broddigan couldn't help but pull out a second hazelnut. And a third. And the next thing he knew, he was munching on a slice of soft, white cheese that had nuts stuffed into it. Broddigan took a large bite out of the cheese and then stopped. A twig snapped behind him.

The squirrel warrior started to reach for his bow when he remembered that he was eating cheese with nuts in it. He looked left and right cautiously before another spark erupted from the fire. Broddigan resumed eating his cheese, but he did so very slowly, and he made sure to keep his ears open. After the squirrel gulped down the cheese, he heard leaves rustling. In the time it took to blink, Broddigan snatched up his bow and took an arrow out of his quiver. He jerked himself around and started to breathe heavily as he looked around in the darkness. The seasoned warrior leaned forward and sniffed the air, thinking he detected vermin stench. But the squirrel also remembered that he hadn't bathed in three days, and that his brown cloak and tunic hadn't been washed in a week. Broddigan sniffed the air again before he sighed heavily and lowered his bow. He rubbed his forehead and shook his head. Just get some sleep, he told himself. You need it. So the squirrel closed his sack, sat down on the ground, and leaned against the same thick log.

And then he hopped back up and decided it would be best to double-check the area, just to be sure. He crept around the campfire, climbed all the trees near him, and even sifted through several bushes and looked behind several trees. No beast was spying on him; if somebeast was, he couldn't see, hear, or smell them anymore. That was just another "small" price he had to pay for being a warrior. He could never settle down and relax out in the open without thinking somebeast was out to get him. After the squirrel finished checking out his surroundings, he sighed heavily and slowly walked back over to his campfire. For a brief moment, he envied Redwallers. Sure, they were "trapped" inside a box, but at least they were happy. At least they could sleep in peace. At least they had comfortable beds… Broddigan huffed and stopped himself. Just shut up and go to sleep, he told himself. Broddigan sat down at the log again and placed his bow down right beside him. He leaned back on the log, his footpaws inches away from the fire so they would stay warm overnight. Given the squirrel's age, it wasn't hard for him to close his eyes and lose consciousness.

Half an hour later, the squirrel was still asleep. As the squirrel slept, he failed to notice that a reddish-brown weasel clad in a messy sleeveless shirt and pantaloons had found him. The weasel could see the squirrel lying against the log and grinned. He took out a smooth knife from his black waistsash and crouched down, hoping to sneak up on the squirrel. But the weasel was careless; as he took a step forward, he stepped on a pile of leaves. Broddigan snorted. The weasel immediately fell flat on his stomach, hoping the darkness would conceal him well. But lucky for him, Broddigan didn't even wake up. He just snorted in his sleep and mumbled; he was still lying on his log. The weasel didn't take any chances. He remained in the same spot for two whole minutes, desperately trying not to squirm when some insect started to crawl all over his right footpaw. The weasel shook the insect off before he got back up, slowly and carefully. Then he resumed creeping up behind the squirrel. He was only a few feet away when paranoia kicked in and he hid behind a large tree.

"Trap," he whispered. "I bet that ole squirrel an' his mates got a trap set fer me."

He peeked around the side of the tree and blinked. This was _too easy_. It had to be a trap. The weasel exhaled and realized it wasn't worth it. He could find food elsewhere; no point in sneaking up on somebeast who clearly looked like he knew how to handle himself. The weasel's stomach disagreed, and it growled at him viciously. The weasel shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Guess I'll have to risk it."

He came out of his hiding spot and crept behind Broddigan, getting closer and closer, stepping meticulously to avoid making too much noise. The squirrel was still sleeping; maybe this would work out after all. Broddigan snorted again, causing the weasel to freeze. He was just a couple feet away; now was the time to strike. The weasel took three huge steps, stopping when he was not even four inches away from the squirrel's head. The weasel didn't think; there was no time to. He acted. Using his left paw, he covered Broddigan's mouth and jerked his head backwards, exposing his throat. Broddigan jerked awake and let out a muffled shout. The squirrel immediately reached for his giant bow, but the weasel was too quick. It only took the weasel a second to run his blade across the squirrel's throat. The next thing Broddigan knew, he was groaning, coughing, and spitting up blood as he thrashed his arms and legs around. The weasel held onto the squirrel tightly, grinning as blood splashed all over his paw. The valiant warrior was choking and drowning in his own blood. His brain knew he was dead, but his body kept fighting the inevitable. The squirrel knew he shouldn't have gone to sleep.

Even after Broddigan grabbed his bow, the weasel just smacked it out of his paw. Broddigan stopped struggling so much; he knew his life was about to end. The front of his cloak was stained with blood, and Broddigan's vision was becoming weary. Everything around him was becoming dark and bleak, and the warrior stopped moving around and grunting so much. The squirrel stopped moving his arms and legs, and the warm blood continued to run down the giant laceration on his neck. He slowly began to shut his eyes, unable to do anything more. The next thing Broddigan knew, he was standing in front of the gates of the Dark Forest.

And so ended the life of the famous squirrel warrior.

"Heh, seems like yore luck ran out, mate!"

The weasel was still grinning as he wiped the blood off his blade, using the squirrel's own cloak as a cloth. He slipped the knife back into his waistsash before he began to search around the campfire. The weasel picked up the giant bow and strapped it onto his back. He had a bow of his own, but he knew the rest of his crew would be impressed to hear how he got it, and one of his friends could probably use it. The weasel went ahead and took the quiver full of arrows too; no point in leaving them to waste, especially since he may encounter more woodlanders later on. The weasel was just about to leave when he noticed the large sack sitting beside the campfire. The creature crouched down and opened the sack with his dirty paws before a wonderful fragrance entered his nostrils. The weasel looked inside, and his eyes grew wide.

"You gotta be shittin' me!"

Inside the sack was an assortment of vittles that would make any hungry beast weep with joy. Hazelnuts, goatsmilk, blackberry cordial, fine, white cheese, some honeyed nutbread and oatmeal bannocks—there was even a thin jar of vegetable soup inside. Broddigan had enjoyed the soup Friar Gavley, the new chef in Redwall, made so much that he asked if he could take some with him in a jar to eat on the go, even if it was cold. The weasel's mouth started to drool at the sight of so much delicious food all cozy and stuffed into one sack. The weasel glanced at the squirrel's cadaver and snickered.

"Well, no point in lettin' this food go ta waste, right?"

The weasel didn't know what to start off with first, so he just shoveled his mouth as fast as he could. He smacked and chewed, crunched and slurped as he stuffed his face with all the delectable vittles. He knew he needed to bring most of it back to his crew, but he didn't care right now. He had been searching all night for food; he wasn't going to let his greedy crewmembers hog it all. After the weasel finished eating all the hazelnuts and slices of bannock, he opened up the bottle of blackberry cordial and drank right from the container. He quaffed nearly half the whole thing before lowering the bottle and belching rudely. The weasel finished off the rest of the cordial before starting on the cheese wedges again. He adored how soft and warm the cheese was, how smooth it felt going down his throat. And unfortunately, he wound up eating all of that too. He worked on the honeyed nutbread next, biting slices of the bread in half before stuffing the rest into his mouth. He was busy smacking on all the bread when his throat became dry, so he took out the goatsmilk and started to drink from the bottle, despite his mouth being full.

It wasn't until he finished drinking a third of the bottle that he realized most of the food was gone. The weasel blinked and looked inside the sack again. All that was left was the vegetable soup, two-thirds of the milk, and half of the nutbread. The weasel sighed. If he returned to his crew with no food at all and a full stomach, they'd figure out he selfishly ate everything for himself. So he put the lid back on the milk and stuffed the bottle back in the sack. Since his back was already full, the weasel stuffed the quiver into the sack, closed it, and removed the bow from his back. Then he put on the sack and put the bow back on. He knew the bow would be useless without the arrows, but he didn't feel like walking around with the quiver, the sack, and the bow all dangling from his body. Besides, he had his trusty dirk and knife in his waistsash; that was enough. The weasel checked to make sure the squirrel didn't have anything else of value before he turned away from the campfire and left.

A new bow, a dozen arrows, some milk, vegetable soup, nutbread, and a dead squirrel warrior. Not too bad for one night of work. Hopefully it would be enough to placate his captain.

* * *

The ferret shivered as he tried to stay near the fire for warmth. The three rats accompanying him were scared out of their minds, panting and looking over their shoulders, their cutlasses drawn.

"Where'd they go?! Those blasted 'ares are crawlin' all over us!"

"Shut yer mouth, Flin! Yer scarin' the fat one!"

The vermin the other rat was referring to was Bosca, a pregnant ferret. "You watch yore language. The only reason I 'aven't slain you myself is 'cause I need you ta get me back safely!"

The other rat scoffed. "Oh dear, I seem to 'ave angered her! Surely a ferret with a babe is much more threatenin' than a giant stripedog an' his 'ole army of rabbits!"

"I said shut yore mouth!"

And so he did. Permanently. An arrow magically appeared going through his neck. The rat didn't even have time to gurgle before he fell forward and dropped his cutlass.

"How many times must we tell you cretins?! We're hares, not confounded rabbits, wot!"

"DOWN!"

All the vermin dropped to the ground when two more arrows zipped past them. Flin, the rat arguing with the one who just died, suddenly began to wonder if being in one spot was such a bright idea.

"We gotta go now! If we 'urry, we can blend in with the darkness!"

The male ferret scoffed. "Ain't no point in runnin' around forever mate! That rabbit with the bow will keep trackin' us!"

The ferret shouted when another bow whizzed right past his face, cutting against his cheek.

"I heard that!"

Flin grumbled. "Yew three wanna stay 'ere, fine! I ain't gonna sit on me arse an' wait for some stripedog to chop me ta bits!"

And with that, Flin turned around and began to sprint away from the campfire, leaving the remaining vermin to the slaughter. The male ferret saw him running away and snarled.

"Coward! Yore just gonna leave—"

"Forget him! The three of us can make it back! All we gots ta do is kill that…_thing_ hidin' in the trees 'afore his mates show up," said Bosca.

The pregnant ferret didn't want to say "rabbit," because she knew that the hare up in the trees would be angered by it. The male ferret and remaining rat all looked up into the trees, their weapons drawn. Bosca didn't have a bow and arrow, so the other ferret and rat had to aim at the trees. They breathed very quietly, looking left and right as they listened for anything out of the ordinary. They heard a few crickets chirping and the wood in the campfire crackling as the fire burned it, but nothing more. The rat's paws were shaking as he looked up into the dark canopy, hoping the hare would be stupid enough to just fall down and break his neck. The rat and ferret saw leaves shaking and immediately fired their arrows, quickly reloading afterwards. The hare hiding in the trees snickered moments before more leaves fell from one of the trees. The rat shouted and fired another arrow, missing again. Before he had the time to even grab another arrow from his quiver, he grunted when the hare fired an arrow into his torso. He collapsed afterwards, his body limp.

"COME OUT! If you rabbits are so strong an' brave, then face me—"

The male ferret was silenced when a blunt stone cracked against his jaw. His bow and arrow flew out of his paws and he fell onto the ground, his vision blurred and mandible broken. The pregnant ferret noticed that her paws were shaking now, and she suddenly began to wonder if staying behind was a good idea. She was about to turn around and run when she heard somebeast screaming in the distance, followed by a sickening squish. The hares must've flanked them and killed Flin as he tried to bolt. Bosca realized with horror that she was surrounded. Even now as she stood by the campfire, she could hear footpaws pounding against the soil, getting louder and louder as seconds passed. Suddenly, the ferret heard a loud thud and felt somebeast looming behind her. She shouted and swung her cutlass backwards, but the hare easily knocked the weapon from the ferret's paws with his sabre. He snickered to himself, his giant belly wobbling.

"Mayhap you cretins need to be taught a new word. Hare. Can y'say that for me? _Hare_," said the chubby leporid.

The ferret saw no point in running. She tried to reach over and grab her cutlass, but she wound up shouting when a hard stone cracked off her paw, nearly breaking it. She groaned and fell down, panting and whimpering as she rubbed her paw. Bosca looked up for a brief moment and screamed. She could see the hares now, all of them dressed in some kind of colorful, military coats; Bosca already knew that they were members of the Long Patrol. Some wore trousers, while others walked around bare from the waist down. The hare who had picked off Bosca's mates in the trees brushed some dirt off his blue coat before putting his sabre back in the sheath. He wouldn't need it anyway, not with how scared and pitiful this ferret looked. Bosca whimpered as she crawled backwards, nearing the flame.

"Stop! Y-you can't slay me!"

"An' why not? So's you can skitter h'away an' stab h'us in the neck with that blade you're concealin'?"

The dark brown hare who just spoke to her was also the one who broke the other ferret's jaw. He looked down at the ground after hearing a gurgled moan and noticed that the ferret was still alive and trying to stand. He unsheathed his sword and nonchalantly stabbed the ferret in the back. He didn't even have time to groan again before he fell to the ground. Only this time he wouldn't be getting back up. Bosca whimpered as she crawled backwards again, her fur nearly singed by the fire behind her. She was about to open her mouth again when everybeast heard large footsteps in the distance. A few hares started to grin or chuckle while others remained stoic. They stepped out of the way so they could let their ruler get through. Bosca heard loud breathing as the immense and nightmarish thuds began to grow louder and louder. She saw a great big figure in the distance slowly appear from the darkness. She honestly thought she was having a nightmare, but everything she saw was real. The beast walking towards her was a massive badger clad in blue armor.

"No…this can't be happenin'!"

The badger was gargantuan, like all badgers known throughout Mossflower and Salamandastron. He easily overshadowed all the hares around him, even some of the ones with massive ears. His armor would always shake loudly and emit a noisy metallic sound; he would always create small tremors in the ground with each large footstep he took. A broadsword much too heavy for the ferret to carry was strapped to his back. In his warm, big paws was a giant axe designed for only badgers. To the badger, it weighed no more than a regular stick. But any other beast would strain his or herself just to try and pick it up. The badger stopped in front of Bosca, and she managed to get a better look at him. A rare and odd blue-colored stripe was going down his head. He had such innocent blue eyes that for a moment, Bosca thought this badger was harmless. She never did know how badgers could look so gentle and threatening all at the same time.

"Please…you can't kill me!"

The fat hare in a blue coat scoffed. "Typical of you vermin! The least you could jolly well do is face your own demise with a spot of dignity, wot!"

Bosca huffed. "Dignity?! Some stupid stripedog—"

The badger growled so loudly that she shouted and whined. She closed her mouth moments later.

"I am not some 'stupid stripedog,' do you understand? My name is Urthquake the Tough, Badger Lord of Salamandastron."

"But you—"

"Stop," he growled again. "I do not have time to stand here—"

"I'M EXPECTIN' A BABE!" she suddenly screamed.

The other hares looked at the whimpering ferret and just now noticed that her belly was fatter than usual. A female hare wearing a red coat chuckled.

"Yes, yes, an' I s'pose my brother here is expectin' a leveret as well? Or perhaps Becker over there?"

Bosca was on the verge of crying now. "I'm serious. Please…you can't do this ta me. I just want to 'ave my babe…that's all."

Urthquake stared at the ferret's eyes for a moment and tried to see if there was any truth to what she was saying. He blinked once before he shook his large head.

"That _thing_ inside you is a curse. If I spare you, you'll tell your babe of this night. And then he or she will grow old, and learn to hate Urthquake the Tough—"

"No, that ain't—"

"—and then that babe of yours will come find me and try to slay me in my sleep. And I will kill him or her, wondering why I failed to slay his or her mother so many seasons ago."

Now actual tears were running down the ferret's face. Bosca could see that Urthquake was lifting his giant axe.

"Have mercy!"

Urthquake blinked, his eyes still kind, his face still emotionless. "You brought this on yourself. You vermin always do."

The ferret didn't even have time to squeal before Urthquake slammed his axe down, practically bifurcating the pregnant ferret. One hare scrunched up his face when he saw some of the ferret's bones and another yelped when warm blood splashed all over his recently cleaned coat. Lucky for him, it was red already. After slaying Bosca, Urthquake blinked and pulled the axe out of the corpse.

"Are there anymore?"

"No, sah," said a gray bunny with patches of black fur around his body. "We spotted a straggler runnin', but he didn't get far."

Urthquake nodded. "Good. Then let's keep moving."

Urthquake and his massive army of Long Patrol hares began to walk away from the campfire, acting as though nothing even happened. However, one young hare with dark brown fur couldn't help but stare at the ferret's body and the armor-clad badger as he coldly walked away. He knew he shouldn't question a Badger Lord (especially one like Urthquake), but he couldn't bottle this up all night. At the very least, his leader could tell him why he just did what he did. So the young hare rushed over to the badger and walked alongside him and a few other hares.

"Uh, sir? Sir?"

"It's 'Lord,' Corporal. You address your badger as a 'lord'! How many times do we gotta tell you that, wot!"

The young hare lowered his ears slightly. "My mistake, Lieutenant."

"Does it matter whether he calls 'im 'sir' or 'lord'? It all means the same," said another, skinnier hare.

The lieutenant faced the other hare and snorted. "Was I talkin' to you, Sarn't?"

"No, but I—"

"Then shut your mouth!"

Urthquake sighed. "Morson, I do not need you to tell my army what they should and should not address me as. Now…what is it, Tike?"

The young corporal scratched the back of his head. "Well…about that ferret expectin' that babe…was she lyin'?"

Urthquake shook his head. "No. I know the difference between somebeast who's fat and somebeast who's expecting."

Tike blinked. "But then why did you slay her, sir?"

"Tch! Why not! D'you want her to follow us an' stab us all in the back? Or mayhap you wanted her to spy on us so she could go back an' rally up another group of vermin to come slay us in our sleep! Urthquake did what he had—"

"I am more than capable of speaking for myself, Morson," said Urthquake, much louder than normal.

The lieutenant knew when he needed to shut his mouth. Even Morson wasn't stupid enough to try and talk back to Urthquake. …Most of the time.

"I know it must've been hard for you to see that. But you must understand, Corporal Bonson. All these vermin we run into, these spiteful, malignant, cold-hearted creatures we slay for a living…they started out as babes once. Innocent little creatures that only cared about the next meal they would get. But babes grow up, Tike. Their hearts grow colder and colder, they develop this…hatred for us peace-loving woodlanders that they can't stand. And the next thing you know, there's another Swartt Sixclaw running around Mossflower. Think about it, Corporal. Picture what would've happened if somebeast just found Swartt Sixclaw when he was just a babe and slashed his throat. Or Slagar the Cruel. Or Ferahgo the Assassin. Or even Cluny the Scourge. If somebeast had just killed these beasts before they were old enough to control an army, imagine all the tragedies that could've been averted, the lives that could've been saved."

Tike knew that the Badger Lord was being cold, but after he thought about it for a brief moment, he closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "I…I understand, sir. I don't like it…but you have a point."

"I didn't say you needed to like it. You just have to understand. Once you understand why these vermin need to die, slaying them becomes much easier."

"…Right."

The badger and other hares continued to walk through Mossflower woods, eager to find more vermin so they could rid them from the forest.

* * *

There were fourteen bodies scattered across the soil, but there was at least forty body parts. The vermin didn't even know what hit them. They were walking through Mossflower searching for food when a ghastly odor filled everybeast's nostrils. The next thing they knew, arrows and throwing knives were coming from all sides. Everybeast's ears were filled with the sounds of screaming and groaning as the group was picked off one by one. And then the attackers showed themselves, and the vermin were slaughtered even faster. They were lizards, specifically monitor lizards. The giant reptiles ambushed them without breaking a sweat; they didn't even lose a single lizard. And now that the vermin were all dead and spread across the forest, the hungry lizards began to feast. They snarled, hissed, and slobbered as they tore away at the cadavers, some not even bothering to cook the food over an open flame. So now the lizards were stealing the weapons from the dead and filling their stomachs with the cooling flesh. All but one of the vermin was dead; the sole survivor was being teased and tormented by several of the lizards.

"Poke him again!" shouted one lizard.

A grayish-brown lizard carrying a spear snickered moments before he poked the fat rat in the bottom. He yelped and jumped forward, while all the other lizards laughed. The plump rodent was on all fours, shaking and whimpering, tears running down his face.

"Please, spare me, please!" he whined.

"Lizzen to the way he begz!"

A very large monitor with bluish-gray scales stepped towards the rat. The black rat slowly looked up at the burly lizard clad in tattered shorts and a tunic. He grinned very slowly and crouched down, his tongue occasionally slipping out of his mouth.

"Zo, you wanna live, hmm?"

The rat had to turn his head when the lizard's nasty breath filled his nose. "Y…yes…" he muttered.

The giant lizard hissed quietly before he stood up and walked behind the black rat. The rodent yelped when the lizard grabbed his thick tail and slowly lifted it. The lizard blinked as he stared at the rat's noticeably large behind clad in brown trousers. He growled deeply.

"That'z a lovely arze ya got there. Gotta zay, I really do love a rat with meat on hiz bonez…" growled the lizard.

The black rodent did not like where this was going, especially when the lizard grabbed his waistband. Thankfully, the leader of the group, another vile lizard with dark green scales, stopped the commotion.

"That'z enough!"

The giant lizard let go of his tail as the leader of the group showed himself. Like all the other lizards, he was very large and wearing tattered clothing; this lizard was mostly wearing blue. He looked down at the black rat and grinned wickedly, his dark yellow eyes staring right into his.

"Who'z your crew?"

The rat turned his head again. The lizard wasn't even crouching in front of the rat and he could still smell his rank breath.

"What'z your name?"

"Uh…R-Razzik…it's Razzik."

The lizard hissed loudly and crouched in front of Razzik. "Do you want to die, Razzik?"

Razzik shut his eyes and sobbed. "No! Please, you-you don't 'ave to kill me!"

The leader stood up, planted his right foot on the rat's face, and shoved him backwards. Razzik whimpered as he crawled backwards and sat against a log.

"Ohhhhhh, truzt me! Death iz a blezzing compared to what we'll do if we keep ya alive!"

The bluish-gray monitor that was groping Razzik's bottom earlier hissed. "Remember the lazt chubby rat you caught?"

The leader hissed again. "Indeed I do! We ztarved the vermin for only one day. That waz all it took! Then Luggrar an' I both took turnz az we zliced the rat'z own flesh from hiz body! You remember that day, Luggrar?"

A light green lizard licked a long and thin flaying knife before he snickered. "Yez, Great Leader! That rat _loved_ to zcream in our earz, didn't he?"

"Stop…" moaned Razzik.

"But I'm not finished yet! He got hungry and, well, we didn't have no food for the poor thing, zo we had to feed him hiz own flesh! Hehehe, greedy little rodent gobbled it all down az though it were vittlez from Redwall! Everyday we did the zame thing to him, cutting off hiz flesh an' feeding it to him, until he choked to death. He died eating himzelf! Such a nazty way to go, ain't it?"

Razzik couldn't answer. He just sat there and kept sobbing, snot coming out of his nose as more tears ran down his face. The powerful monitor lizard removed his cutlass from its sheath and planted the blade against Razzik's fat belly. He poked him a few times, but not hard enough to draw blood.

"Let'z ztart right…here! Now hold ztill! Wouldn't want ta cut too deep!"

Razzik's eyes grew wide and he stopped sobbing. He gasped for a moment as he felt utterly helpless. Suddenly, the lizards heard a loud hiss, which was immediately followed by the sound of trickling. Razzik whimpered quietly and was overcome with embarrassment. The leader of the lizards looked down and noticed that a small puddle had formed in-between the fat rodent's legs. The lizard had scared him so badly that he wet himself. Once everybeast found out what Razzik did, the section of the forest was filled with laughter and hissing noises. Razzik looked down in shame as everybeast laughed and teased him; he already knew they considered him to be a common babe now. Even the leader was hooting with laughter. Luggrar stopped laughing for a brief moment before he grinned and shook his head.

"You vermin are all alike! You run around gawkin' at how mean an' tough you are, but when it comez down to it, yore all juzt babez who can't ztop pizzin' an' shittin' themzelves when they ztare death in the eye!"

Razzik yelped when the leader grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back onto his footpaws. He brought the rat so close to his face that Razzik could feel his foul breath on his nose.

"Now you lizzen to me! I'm not gonna kill you…not yet anyway. I want you to run back to your group of pathetic, pantz-wetting vermin and tell them all that Krazzak Ralfur iz coming! You tell them all that Krazzak Ralfur will become the ruler of thiz forezt and no beast will ztand in hiz way! By the time I'm through tearing thiz forezt apart, beazts all around the country will think the Hellgatez themzelves opened up and unleashed all itz fury onto the world!"

Krassak shoved Razzik back down onto the ground, at which point he whimpered and panted as he quickly started to stand back up.

"Go! Tell your zniveling band of vermin that zoon enough, there'll be no plaze left to run or hide! Krazzak Ralfur iz coming!"

Razzik didn't answer or look back. The black rodent panted and sobbed as he sprinted away from the malicious creatures, all of them jeering or hissing at him as he ran away. Even for a rat of his size, Razzik could run surprisingly fast. Krassak and Luggrar stared at the rodent until he was out of their field of vision. Krassak grinned slowly and chuckled, his tongue slipping out of his mouth.

"Yez…one day zoon, all theze mongrelz will kneel before Krazzak and hiz army!"

The burly bluish-gray lizard snorted. "Shame. I waz hoping we could have a little fun with him firzt."

Krassak laughed. "Don't worry, Rowgat. We'll find you another rat to play with zoon enough!"

The other lizard grinned. "Good."

* * *

It was finally dawn. The weasel could see the sun slowly rising beyond the horizon, ready to shine brightly upon Mossflower. He could hear the various seagulls crying out at sea and flying above the water, almost as if they were gliding. The cool wind from the sea was blowing his way, bringing along the familiar scent of the salty air he knew and loved. The weasel smiled as he stood there, looking down at the sandy beach and feeling some of the sand in-between his toes. For a brief moment, the weasel had completely forgotten about the crisis he and his crew were facing. But as he looked down at the beach, the peaceful moment was ruined when he saw the two beached vessels that had recently been ravaged by a wicked storm almost a week ago. The weasel also happened to notice the large group of vermin occupying the beach, most of whom were sleeping lazily or unconscious from drinking too much grog. The weasel stopped smiling and sighed heavily before he walked towards the ship on the left side of the beach. As the weasel trekked across the sand and approached the wrecked vessel, he could hear several of his crew members snoring loudly, some of them even gurgling since their mouths were filled with slobber. He shook his head and muttered to himself. They needed to get moving—and fast, otherwise everybeast would become too lazy to even lift their cutlasses.

"Nice to see yore back early," said a light brown stoat.

The weasel sighed. "Where's the Cap'n?"

"Still in his cabin. Been mutterin' to 'imself lately; I think bein' out here fer so long is messin' with his mind."

The weasel rubbed his head. "I'll talk to him."

"Good luck with that."

While the weasel was busy walking into the beached ship, the captain was busy pacing inside his cabin, scratching himself and talking to himself on occasion. He had various paw-drawn sketches of Mossflower spread across the table in his cabin. The ferret looked down at all the maps and stared at some of the important locations before he grunted when a drop of water fell right on his left ear. The whole cabin was very humid and clammy; the rain from the recent storms had soaked through the wood, and various parts of the ship were freezing. Even now the captain noticed how nippy the air inside was.

"Now…now if we just advance over here…"

The captain kept muttering to himself before he shut his eyes and rubbed his muzzle. He abruptly swore vehemently and swiped some of the sketches off his desk before he snatched a canteen of grog from his table and sat down in a chair. He shoved the canteen against his mouth and took a huge gulp of the fiery fluids, swallowing multiple times as the liquids went down his throat. He exhaled after having his fill, just in time for the weasel to step inside. The ferret blinked and turned his head, smiling when he saw his first mate walk through the doorway.

"Trae! Yore certainly back a bit earlier'n expected!"

The weasel shrugged. "Any other beast back yet?"

"Longfang an' Bloodeye came back with some ramsons—not that many of the crew feels like eatin' that nasty stuff. Tugger found a new spear an' some bread lyin' around at a campfire."

"What about Razzik an' his team?"

The captain shrugged. "Dunno. Prob'ly got lost again in the woods. Wot about you? Find anythin'?"

Trae smirked proudly and snickered. "You know me, Cap'n! Always producin' results!"

The weasel took the sack and bow from his back and set it down on the table. The ferret set his canteen of grog aside and laughed as he examined the long, sleek bow.

"Wow…who d'ya kill to get this beauty?"

"Eh, just some squirrel sleepin' in the woods. Snuck up behind 'im an' slit his throat."

The captain looked at Trae with a wide and nasty grin on his face. "Killin' somebeast while he's sleepin'? Bit unfair, dont'cha think?"

The weasel shrugged. "I don't fight fair, Cap'n. I fight _smart_."

The ferret laughed heartily before he set the bow down and opened up the sack. "That you do, Trae! That you do!"

Trae watched as his captain removed the quiver of arrows and set them on the table beside the bow. He looked at the container of milk, soup, and the slices of bread before he started to drool.

"Haha, you did good, Trae! Haven't seen vittles like these since last season!"

As Trae kept smirking to himself, the ferret started to frown when he moved his paw around the seemingly empty sack.

"Where's the rest?"

"What rest, Cap'n?"

"You stole this sack, yeah?"

"Right."

"An' that squirrel you killed only brought bread, milk, and some stew with him?"

Trae froze for a moment before shrugging again. "Guess he weren't a big eater."

The captain looked up at Trae and started to scowl. "You sure you didn't get hungry on the way back here?"

"No, sah! I ate 'afore I even left to go look fer food!"

Trae forced himself not to gasp when the ferret leaped over the table and took his knife out of his waistsash. For such a tired ferret, he sure knew how to move fast. "Open yer mouth."

Trae blinked. "What for?"

"I wanna smell your breath. If you're not lyin', then I shouldn't smell any vittles on yer breath, right?"

The weasel scratched the back of his head nervously as the ferret got closer and closer. "Err…I don't think I should, Cap'n."

"Want me to open it for you?" snarled the ferret menacingly.

The ferret was so close to Trae that he was able to put his cold blade against the weasel's chin. Trae grumbled softly as the captain started to grab the weasel's jaw. Not wanting to antagonist the ferret further, Trae opened his mouth wide and exhaled in the ferret's face. The captain didn't even need to sniff; he could smell it already. The captain groaned with disgust as he recoiled and backed away from the brown creature.

"Yurk, that's foul! Wot the 'ell's been festerin' in your mouth?!"

Trae scratched the back of his head. "Wild ramsons, sah. I got 'ungry on the way back and I couldn't find anythin' else to munch on. They taste fine after ya down two or three of 'em."

The weasel found that lying always worked well when he mixed in the truth with it. Before he arrived at the beach, Trae did get hungry, and he was fortunate enough to find ramsons nearby. Since he suspected something like this might happen, the weasel shoveled several ramsons into his mouth to mask the scent of his breath. Unless somebeast planned on sifting through his excrement to find evidence of vittles, he had nothing to worry about now. The ferret groaned again and leaned against the table. He placed his knife back into his waistsash and sighed.

"Right then, you make sure to stay a few feet away from me fer a few hours."

Trae smirked. "Will do, Cap'n!"

The ferret took all the vittles out of the sack and placed them on the table. He sat down and started to messily shovel a slice of bread into his maw, smacking and getting some slobber on the table. The weasel was still standing in the cabin, as though he were expecting something from his captain. The ferret didn't even notice he was still there, in large part because he started chugging the warm goatsmilk. After slurping up a large amount of it and burping, the captain glanced over at Trae and blinked.

"Somethin' else you want?"

"…About this plan of yours—"

"It's goin' to work, Traegar. You just wait an' see…everybeast in Mossflower thinks they can just snatch all our freedoms away from us, slaughter any corsair that even smells like vermin. Heh…I'll show 'em."

"It's not that I doubt yore plan—"

"Really, Trae? It certainly sounds like it."

The weasel had known the ferret long enough to realize when flattery would get him out of a tough situation. He just had to say the right words, put on the right face. So the brown weasel grinned and scoffed.

"Yore Kurwin the Flayer, Cap'n! Other corsairs dread yore name an' yore nasty reputation! You take what you want, slay when ya feels like it, and you raid other ships just to watch the other pirates shit themselves once they see yore ugly face!"

Kurwin couldn't deny that he didn't exactly look handsome. Several scars were spread across his head. He had a particularly nasty scar on his left eye after receiving a cut that nearly blinded him, and there was another scar that went from his right ear all the way down to his neck. The ferret smirked, taking what Traegar said about his face as a compliment.

"All corsairs on the sea fear you, Cap'n! You an' that blade of yours."

The blade Trae was referring to was the ferret's special flaying knife. When Kurwin was in a "good" mood, he had a habit of skinning his victims alive and hanging the corpses from trees or the masts of rival ships. Kurwin snickered evilly, enjoying all of Trae's flattery.

"Wot's yer point?"

"Beasts an' all the other second-rate corsairs who can't hold a cutlass the right way fear you. Those who don't look up ta you, wanna be like you! …But we're pirates, sah. The sea's where we all belong, not with all these landlubbers an' their trees an' giant abbeys."

"An' how are we s'posed to be at the sea when my ships are only good for bonfires?"

Trae scoffed. "This ain't the first time the ships have been scuttled, especially this one! We lost the whole mast in the winter before last; lost a few good beasts in the process too! But we got the ship fixed, didn't we?"

"After pissin' away the entire season, an' losin' more fellow corsairs and a steersrat before spring finally arrived."

"But we recovered! That's the point, Cap'n! If we can—"

"Trae," said the ferret, so loudly that the weasel stopped talking. He reached over and grabbed his canteen of grog again. As he started to unscrew the cap, he sighed heavily. "Mossflower is nothin' more'n a bog. Beasts go in, an' most don't come out. How many times have we visited Mossflower an' lost crew members 'cause some woodlanders ambushed us? How many times do we have to lie awake at night 'cause we don't want some riverdogs to stab us all in our sleep with their javelins? How many times do we have to hope that we don't run into some stripedog carryin' a giant axe?!"

Kurwin took a long drink from his canteen and sighed heavily. "And don't get me started on that fuckin' abbey…"

"What, Red—"

"DON'T!" snarled the ferret. "I don't even wanna hear the name! All those vermin armies that tried to take over the place—if a beast even smells as bad as we do, they get slain! Tchah, Raga Bol, Razzid Wearat—even Cluny the Scourge! They slew one of the greatest conquers in all the land with a bell, Trae. A fuckin' bell!"

Kurwin drank more grog and sighed, realizing he was almost out. "I'm tired of bein' scared of this place. I'm tired of other corsairs refusin' to even go on land anymore 'cause they're worried some Redwallers or stripedogs or tree climbers or riverdogs or wotever is gonna hunt 'em down and slay 'em!"

Kurwin shook his head. "No…one way or another, we vermin are gonna rule the land _an'_ the sea, understand? The vermin around this country are gonna realize that there's no need ta be frightened anymore."

Trae rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Cap'n—"

"You answer me truthfully now. Wot's better: spendin' a whole season rebuildin' two ships an' then sailin' back ta sea, raidin' small-time islands and hopin' we don't run into any of those riverdog pirates? Or stayin' here, buildin' our own army, and drivin' all of those beasts outta the forest so we can take it over for ourselves? That way, we won't _have_ to be worryin' about anythin' anymore. It'll be this…giant paradise full of vermin who work together so we can all rule the rest of this world. An' we can build all the ships we want, assign each crew to one, an' send 'em out onto the seas to go find more islands to pillage and burn."

The reddish-brown weasel stared at the partially drunken corsair and his nasty grin for a while. He knew his captain wanted this—needed, some would say—but he was still apprehensive about the whole plan. The weasel knew that a lot of beasts were going to die; some were gonna have mental breakdowns; some were gonna try to pull a mutiny; some might even kill themselves from suffering too much grief. But when Trae envisioned everything Kurwin just said, about how the forest would be littered with pirates who build ships on a harbor so they could sail away to take over more islands, he started to feel very content. He stood there, completely silent, imagining what would happen if prouder, stronger vermin armies like the ones Cluny and Ferahgo controlled had taken over Redwall, maybe even Salamandastron. He could see all the hares fighting and dying as they were overrun by the enemy, the Redwallers running away with their tails 'tween their legs, only to get shot down by arrows. As risky as it was, it would pay off in the end.

"When you put it that way sah, I don't understand 'ow anybeast _couldn't_ agree with you!"

"But?"

Trae blinked and paused. "Cap'n…this could be the death of you. This could destroy yore crew; this could drive you mad. Even if this works…we're not all gonna live ta see our victory. You know that."

"If I know that, then why are you tellin' me?"

"Because you need to realize what yore about to get yoreself into, what yer gonna get the rest of the crew into. Are you prepared for that, Cap'n?"

The ferret finished the rest of his grog and put the canteen down. "Even if I end up at Hellgates…if wot we do ends with the vermin controlling this wretched forest an' all the seas surroundin' it…I'm okay with that. That's all I want, Trae, for us vermin to stop bein' scared an' to get the respect we deserve."

Trae closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "If that's what you want."

"It is. Now go wake the crew; I'll be out soon."

"Aye, Cap'n!"

The reddish-brown weasel turned and left the captain's cabin, whilst Kurwin the Flayer sat still and rubbed his forehead. He knew that what he planned on doing with his crew would probably send them all to the Dark Forest. But he had lost beasts before, and he knew what it felt like to look somebeast in the eye and to tell him or her that everything was going to be okay when it wasn't. This was going to work. It had to. He just needed to execute everything properly. While the ferret was busy thinking about his future, Traegar was outside looking for another friend of his. He found a dark brown rat clad in gray clothing lying next to a crate and snoring with his mouth open. Trae kicked him in the sides, causing him to snort.

"Get yore arse up, Blowhorn. We're gonna move soon."

Blowhorn mumbled and turned over. "Sod off, mate. I ain't slept all night."

Trae sighed heavily and walked over to a stoat sleeping against another crate. He snatched the half-empty bottle of grog from his right paw and headed back over to Blowhorn. Without even hesitating, he bashed the bottle against the rodent's head, causing him to shout and sit up, his head throbbing.

"Wot the fuck, Trae?! Can't ya just give me five more minutes?!"

"No. Now wake everybeast up!"

The brown rat snorted as he continued to rub his throbbing head. He stood up and slowly dragged his dirty footpaws across the sand, shielding his eyes as the rising sun began to appear. He stood near the largest group of sleeping vermin he could find and sighed heavily. The dark brown rat smirked before he bent over and lifted his tail, grunting the entire time. Trae noticed what the brown rat was doing and smirked as well; he found Blowhorn's methods to be crude and revolting, but they got the job done. One second, all Trae could hear was the sound of birds singing and beasts snoring. A couple seconds later, his ears were filled with a juvenile sound that easily could've been mistaken for a very noisy horn. But miraculously, the repulsive sound was coming from Blowhorn's behind. The rat made sure he released enough wind so everybeast around would hear him. And for some of the unfortunate ones, smell him. Several corsairs shouted or got up almost immediately, while many others slowly opened their eyes and groaned after hearing Blowhorn release all his flatulence.

"Again, Blowhorn?!"

"When the 'ell are yew gonna start wakin' us up with somethin' other than your ass?"

Blowhorn stood straight up and lowered his tail as he laughed. "No need ta get mad, mates! It's all natural!"

A black female fox was busy waving a paw in front of her nose. "No, it ain't! None o' the smells yew release is natural!"

"But it _is_ funny!"

"What soddin' idjit thinks their own foul gas an' bodily smells is funny?! It's somethin' only them babes would laugh at!"

Blowhorn scoffed. "Bah, yew guys just don't know a good joke when ya see one!"

"Or smell one," muttered the fox.

Everybeast stopped complaining once they saw Kurwin the Flayer finally step out of his wrecked ship. He exhaled as he walked across the sand, looking a bit tired. A gray rat with filthy footpaws spotted the seemingly exhausted captain and scoffed.

"So what is it today, Cap'n? More frolickin' on the beach?"

"Shut your mouth, Dirtfoot!"

"Or what, Cap'n?"

"He's got a point, sah," said a ferret with an eye patch covering his left eye. "We can't just say here an' wait fer somethin' to happen! We gotta get new ships!"

"Aye, Dead-Eye's right!"

"We gotta patch up these boats an' get back to the sea!"

It didn't take long before everybeast around the ships started clamoring or arguing with each other, debating on whether or not they should stay on the beach another day, or if they should take their chances and explore Mossflower for supplies to get the ships fixed. Kurwin was steadily getting tired of all the pointless arguing, up to the point where he started gritting his teeth with frustration. Eventually, he just opened his mouth and exploded.

"AN' WOT GOOD WOULD THAT DO?!"

The vermin stopped talking instantly. They knew that whenever the captain started yelling that vociferously, everybeast needed to be quiet. Kurwin stomped over towards a crate and stepped onto it so everybeast could see him.

"So we patch up the boats an' get back to sea. What then?! We get back to robbin' from tribes that have nothin' of value, we hunt down other pirates just for shits 'n' giggles, we sail around 'til we get bored an' start raidin' other islands killin' everybeast in sight?!"

"Yah, basically. Ain't that wot we've been doin'?" asked a female brown weasel.

"We ain't gettin' nothin' done! You wanna know wot those beasts out there in Mossflower are doin' while we sail the seas?! They're killin' us left an' right! Vermin aren't safe anymore—on the seas or on land! We got stripedogs tearin' us in half with their giant axes, shrews ambushin' us while we're sleepin' by rivers, an' even beasts who ain't no more'n ten seasons old are startin' ta learn how to wield daggers an' dirks! They're drivin' us outta these lands; they're scarin' us, an' they know we're scared! They know after wot happened to all the vermin leaders like Swartt Sixclaw an' the Marlfox clan that we wouldn't even dream of settin' footpaw on Mossflower!"

"Wot's yore point, Cap'n?" asked Dead-Eye.

Kurwin snickered evilly, occasionally turning around on the crate so his back wasn't always facing one part of the audience. "These woodlanders, they-they drive us out of these forests, actin' like it's theirs when it's not! We vermin have every right to rule parts of this forest, but those woodlanders won't let us! Drivin' us out Mossflower ain't enough anymore; now they got their own corsairs huntin' us down! Dreaded riverdogs who turn vermin against their own an' use 'em to hunt beasts like us down! Just two weeks ago Cap'n Deklin an' his whole crew of foxes an' stoats an' rats were all viciously slain at night while their boat was anchored at a harbour! An' it was those soddin' otters that killed 'em all; they slew 'em like it was nothin'! You wanna know wot's gonna happen if this keeps up?"

No one answered, but after hearing that a beloved captain they all knew very well had been slain by otters, some of the crew members started to get worried.

"They're gonna use stripedogs to hunt us down!"

A few members of the crew gasped or looked at Kurwin with wide eyes. The scar-faced ferret knew he was going overboard, but he needed to scare them like this if he was ever gonna get everybeast's undoubted loyalty.

"That's right! Oh, I can see it now! Giant black an' white beasts wearin' striped shirts and loose pants, waltzin' around with some spotted headband, tryin' to look like us! They carry giant cutlasses bigger'n me, and they scream 'EULALIAAAAAAAA!' as loud as they can, just so we can hear 'em across the sea, just so we can sleep at night knowin' that dreadful cry will always fill our ears, will always haunt our dreams! Is that wot you all want? Do you wanna wait until the day where we can't even sail anymore because badgers decided to rule the seas too?! Because we're too scared to fight 'em off?! Because we know that we won't be able t'win?!"

"Yew can't be serious!"

"We can't 'ave some stripedog patrollin' the seas!"

"Is that really gonna happen, Cap'n?"

"Pah, not if we do somethin' about it!" Kurwin pointed back to the well-known forest that, in his eyes, was home to thousands of bloodthirsty creatures whose only goal was to wipe vermin off the face of the world.

"You see that forest? In there are a bunch of squirrels, mice, badgers, otters, hedgehogs—you name 'em, they're festerin' in that forest! You wanna know wot else is in there? Vermin! There's dozens an' dozens of vermin just like us bein' hunted down by all those terrible creatures! So I say we give 'em a paw! I say we stop fightin' each other all the time and work together! I say we show those pathetic an' fat woodlanders who's really ruler of the forest!"

Several members of Kurwin's crew shouted out "Yeah!" or "Aye!" and held up their weapon as they did so. The ferret could see nearly everybeast was riled up by his speech and was more than happy to join him with his plan now.

"I think it's time we turn the tables on those beasts in Mossflower an' show 'em that they're the ones who should be scared of _us_!"

The ferret received more agreeable shouts from his crew. Even those who previously thought Kurwin was just a tired, drunken corsair could now see that his mood had vastly improved, and that he was more than capable of leading them to victory.

"I SAY IT'S TIME WE TAKE OVER MOSSFLOWER!"

That did it. Virtually everybeast in the ferret's crew was cheering at him now, raising their weapons or bottles of grog as a form of salute to the vicious corsair. And Kurwin just stood there taking it all in, laughing evilly and grinning as he looked around at his "vast" army. Maybe they were lazy. Maybe they had a habit of getting drunk all the time. But they were still loyal, bloodthirsty beasts who knew how to use their weapons well enough to defend themselves against a large group of Long Patrol hares.

"Kurwin! Kurwin! Kurwin! Kurwin!"

They kept chanting his name over and over again, creating quite a ruckus as they praised him. The captain was surprised at how quickly he could wake us his crew and get them all moving again. He stood on the crate and kept accepting all the praise from his vermin army, glad that they all believed in him. The ferret was grinning and laughing on the outside, but on the inside, his brain was cursing at him. Even though he had been commanding two giant ships, they couldn't house more than a hundred beasts—not without feeling too cramped. Even then, not everybeast could have a personal cabin. There was a time long ago where Kurwin had more ships in his army. But after failed raids, a mutiny or two, and the constant attacks from enemy pirates and occasional woodlanders, he was down to only two ships—both of which were useless now—and a crew that numbered less than two hundred. He knew his army could be trounced easily if he wasn't careful. More importantly, he knew that a majority of these pirates would probably be dead by the time this whole ordeal was over, himself included. Deep down in his mind, he knew he had a steep promise to fill and that things could easily spiral out of control.

For a brief moment, he thought he said the wrong choice of words and he let his pride get in the way. But he told himself to ignore all his apprehensions and to stick with his plan. Maybe his whole crew would end up in the Dark Forest. Maybe not. Kurwin didn't care anymore, not after all the things he's dealt with ever since he became a corsair.

One way or another, Mossflower was going to be controlled by vermin.


	2. Ambiguous Nature

**II**

**Ambiguous Nature**

The plump rat had arrived a few moments too late, stumbling onto the sandy beach just after everybeast had finished cheering Kurwin's glorious name. The ferret wasn't even standing on the crate and addressing his crew anymore. He was busy chatting with some of his high-ranking corsairs that still held the rank "captain" for the ships they used to command long ago. Razzik hurried as he dragged himself through the sand, panting and sweating, having spent all night running back to his crew to get away from the dreadful lizards. The black rat slowed down as he was a few yards away from the ferret and his lieutenants. A reddish-brown fox with a menacing red right eye saw the wheezing fat rat and chuckled.

"Too late, Razzik. We already had our vittles; ain't nothin' left fer you."

The black rodent huffed. "I don't…this ain't the time, Bloodeye."

"An' why not? While you was out stuffin' yore greedy face all night, the rest of us was busy scavengin' food for each other! Shame you didn't get back in time; we would've shared some wit you!"

Clearly the fox was only going to antagonize the situation. He ignored him and continued to head towards Kurwin.

"CAP'N! Cap'n, we got big trouble ahead of us!"

Kurwin, almost instinctively, reached for his flaying knife within his waistsash. He and all the other corsairs turned and faced Razzik, the rat collapsing to his knees from exhaustion.

"Wot's goin' on? Have you an' the others been followed?"

"No…no, there _are_ no others, Cap'n! Everybeast that came with me's dead!"

All the corsairs stared at the black rat with both shock and suspicion. He was covered in dried-up blood that wasn't his own, yet he didn't have a scratch on him. Given their nature, the first thing a pirate would suspect was a mutiny in its beginning phases. A very burly light brown stoat with a nasty scowl on his face growled as he approached Razzik.

"Wot d'you mean, everybeast is dead? If that's the case, why are you still standin'?!"

Razzik started to lift his paws, whimpering. "It-it-it's not what you think!"

"An' wot do I think, Razzik? You showin' up here, not a scratch on ya, yet all the beasts that went with ya is dead. There was nearly a score of corsairs travelin' with you!"

Another stoat who was aptly named Stinkfoot spoke up for the rat. "Calm yerself, Ishlin. Let the bloke speak."

"I am tired of beasts like Razzik twistin' everythin' around usin' only their mouths! We are not goin' through another mutiny again because—"

"LIZARDS! There…o-okay? It…it was lizards! Monitors!"

The black fox leaning next to a barrel and tossing a knife up and down chuckled wryly. "Yew know that's ridiculous. No monitors 'ave made it this far inland. 'Sides, they're only on Sampetra, 'member?"

"I-I'm not lyin'! They was monitors! They attacked us when we were lookin' for food! They ripped everybeast apart!"

"Except fer you," Ishlin added coldly.

"Tell us wot these 'monitors' you saw look like," Kurwin demanded calmly.

Razzik finally stood up and rubbed his head. "Uh, well-well they was fearsome lookin' things! Really-really big reptiles with long, thick tails! One of 'em broke Remmy's neck just by whackin' 'im in the head with it!"

Kurwin nodded. "And how big are these 'monitors'? Big as badgers?"

Razzik shook his head. "No, most of 'em was about the size of Ishlin. Although there was this one big feller; he was almost the size of a badger."

"Keep goin'."

The gray rat known as Dirtfoot scoffed and shook his head. "Are we really gonna stand here an' keep—"

"Keep goin'," Kurwin said again, loud enough to interrupt Dirtfoot's voice.

"Well, they 'ad these thick scales, they came in all sorts a' different colors—green, blue, uh…a blue one with black spots. They all had these sharp yellow teeth, slobbery mouths an' really foul breath; Dead-Eye's breath ain't even as bad as theirs was!"

The dark fox snickered. "Guess that must be sayin' sumthin' then."

"They just…they wouldn't stop eatin'. After they slaughtered everybeast, they just kept eatin', hackin' their bodies apart an' stuffin' all their flesh down—"

"All right, you can stop now; I believe you," said Kurwin.

"Wot d'yer mean ya believe him?!" asked Dirtfoot.

"I know wot monitor lizards look like, an' I know how they act. Spoke kinda like snakes, yeah? Said stuff like 'zorry' and 'zay'?"

Razzik nodded. "Yeah, somethin' like that. The-the leader of the lizards gave me a warnin' too. He wanted to let you all know that Krassak Ralfur is comin', that-that he's gonna tear this whole forest apart an' be the new ruler…that there'll be no place fer us to run or hide."

Kurwin, surprisingly, just smirked and chuckled softly. "A challenger, eh? Fine. Let the beast make his idle threats."

Ishlin, now believing Razzik's story, turned away from the rat and took his paw off his broadsword's hilt. "Cap'n, this don't sound like some idle threat. Even if it is, them lizards slew fourteen crew members! We can't sit here an' let that go unanswered!"

"He's got a point, Cap'n," said a shaggy ferret who looked like he should've stopped being a corsair seasons ago. "This Krassak arsehole and his lizards killed over a dozen good corsairs!"

Kurwin shrugged. "An' I'll miss 'em. But I ain't gonna stand here an' have my crew run around the forest lookin' for a few measly reptiles to slay. We've got more important things ta do."

"This wasn't some idle threat, Cap'n! I-I think Krassak's serious! I think he's gonna take over this whole forest unless somebeast does somethin' about it!" Razzik said.

"Cap'n, if what Razzik says is true, and we let these lizards go on a killin' spree out of our control, we won't have a forest to rule; the lizards will have already burned it all down," said Stinkfoot.

Kurwin sighed with exasperation. "They're just lizards! Bloodthirsty, connivin', loathsome beasts who kill and devour their own kind! Chances are they'll kill each other before we kill 'em! An' if not, then that's wot all those hares an' Redwallers an' otters an' wotever the fuck's in Mossflower is there for! We're not wastin' time huntin' down some lizards that'll be dead by winter anyways!"

"It's spring, Cap'n. Winter's a far ways away," said Ishlin.

The ferret grinned. "Like I said, the woodlanders will get to 'em."

"But, but Cap'n—"

"That's enough, Razzik! Yore lucky to be alive, considerin' all that's happened! I oughta slay yer myself fer yore cowardice and leavin' yore mates behind to get slaughtered!"

"Th-that's not wot 'appened, Cap'n!"

"I don't need to hear yore excuses! Just be glad I'm in a good mood this mornin' an' don't feel like punishin' you! Now go join the rest of the crew an' get yerself some supplies to carry! We're headin' out soon!"

Razzik didn't feel like wasting his breath. He did like his captain, but there were times when the ferret would only listen to himself and didn't care how hard he was on his corsairs, specifically him. The black rat sighed and nodded. "Yes, Cap'n."

The black fox stared at Razzik as he walked away before she put her knife back in her belt. "Y'know…I do agree with Ishlin an' Stinkfoot, Cap'n. Wot if these lizards—"

"We are _done_ with this conversation, Kronno," he snarled.

All the corsairs recognized that tone. He more or less said "shut the fuck up or I'll cut out yore tongue" in the nicest way possible.

"Awright…so wot's the plan then?"

"This whole lizard affair just confirms how vulnerable we are without numbers. We need more vermin on our side…specifically the Juskarord clan."

Dirtfoot scoffed. "Juskarord? Aren't they just a wannabe Juska tribe?"

"Wannabe or not, they have a large amount of vermin in their tribe. If we recruit them, our numbers will grow, and it'll be easier to trounce any enemies we run into. Unless they've relocated since I last heard about 'em, we should arrive at their camp in a day or two. We've spent enough time restin' on this beach! It's time to start buildin' our new army!"

* * *

As ecstatic as the corsairs were, they all knew that this new journey would be very long, cruel, and possibly arduous. Not even two hours after the pirates entered the woods, some of them began to get bored. Some creatures were busy twirling their weapons around or double-checking to see if they had enough stones or arrows. Others were busy chatting amongst one another to pass the time, recalling all their past episodes and "glorious" days of being a corsair when they were younger. Two fox brothers could see that a group of rats and ferrets were having trouble walking along the ground and just wanted to rest. So they decided to perk them up a bit by doing what they did best: telling annoying, exaggerated tales of previous battles.

"Oh dear! Looks like somebeast is a li'l bored! Wouldn't ya agree, Islik?"

"Of course I would, Slivik!"

Slivik chuckled. "Did I ever tell you guys about the time me an' Islik got into a fight with pygmy shrews?"

A chubby rat with brownish-black fur sighed heavily. "No, yer haven't."

Slivik laughed. "Well, it's quite a lovely and _long_ story; one that'll pass the time real easily! You wanna start first, brother?"

"Absolutely! So there we were, relaxin' our arses off on a hot summer day, gettin' drunk offa all the grog we stole! What was it, seaweed grog?"

"Fish head. It had all them lumps in it, 'member?"

"Right, right. Anyways, while I was busy practicin' my rapier skills, ole Slivik here was chokin' his shaft! Moanin' all loud an' rockin' his hips—"

"I was not! I was busy takin' a piss! Anyway, so I was pissin' an' suddenly, a bunch of tribal shrews appeared from the trees, screechin' at us and wavin' their spears around! So guess wot we do next?"

The chubby rat closed his eyes and sighed heavily, clearly not caring what happened to the foxes. "What?" he said, very flatly.

While the fox brothers were going on about their stories, the vermin at the front of the group were busy trudging through the woods, fully on alert for any presence of woodlanders. Kurwin wasn't at the very front, but he didn't shield himself with all his corsairs either; he saw it as a cowardly way to defend himself. His first mate, however, was up in the front, walking alongside the trackers and other low-level pirates, scoping out the environment. Trae looked to his left and right, watching as the trackers flared their nostrils and kept a close eye out for anything suspicious. It wasn't until one of them began to slow down and veer off to the left that Trae noticed something was wrong. He held up a paw and yelled out "STOP!" as loud as he could. The corsairs all stopped walking and froze, putting their paws on their weapons. The last thing they needed was to be ambushed from up above by squirrels. Trae and a few other pirates stared at the tracker as he kept sniffing.

"What is it, Longfang?"

The black rat with two hideously giant fangs sticking out of his closed mouth scowled. A very odd and musty odor was in the air, but it didn't smell like any other vermin were in the area.

"Dunno…smells like some snake's nearby."

"An adder?" asked a frantic Kronno.

"Like I said, dunno. But there's definitely some kinda reptile not far from 'ere. Can't really tell; the scent's faint."

"Awright, Turvin, Dead-Eye, go check it out," Kronno ordered.

"Aye," said both trackers simultaneously.

Trae watched as the dark brown stoat and ferret quickly and stealthily began to wander through the woods, seeking out the source of the stench. The weasel smirked to himself before he started to walk towards them, making the black fox raise an eyebrow.

"Where yew goin'? Dead-Eye an' Turvin can handle it."

"No reason why I can't lend a paw. 'Sides, if it is an adder, they're gonna need my help."

Kronno didn't argue with Traegar, mostly because his logic made sense. So the weasel quickly ran towards the two trackers, crouching down alongside them as they crept through the grass and twigs. Turvin and Dead-Eye saw the weasel walking with them and sighed.

"It's prob'ly nothin', Trae. No need to back us up," said Turvin.

"Aye. That's wot me spear's for!" Dead-Eye boasted.

Trae smirked. "Relax. I won't get in yore way."

The weasel made sure he was a few feet behind the two trackers. Both of them continued to walk for another minute before Dead-Eye spotted the beasts up ahead first. All three of them could hear whimpering as well and made out a few figures walking around another figure tied to a tree. Dead-Eye swore. Longfang was right; he did smell a snake, along with what appeared to be two red newts.

"Shite. There _is_ a snake up there."

"Is it an adder?"

"No," answered Trae immediately. "Adders ain't that small. Can't tell if it's poisonous or not, but we should be fine."

"An' wot if it is poisonous?" asked Turvin.

Dead-Eye grinned. "Spear through its head should do it."

"Or we could just leave an' get back to findin' this Juska-wotever clan. They 'aven't seen us; why bother makin' a scene?"

"Cause they're torturin' some beast on that tree. Let's get a closer look."

The three vermin proceeded to creep forward as slowly as possible. The captured beast's whines were getting louder, as were the snarls coming from the two newts and the hisses coming from the snake. The corsairs lied flat on the ground, hoping that the grass would camouflage them well. None of the reptiles had seen them; they were too busy paying attention to the whining creature.

"Sounds like a babe to me," said Dead-Eye.

"Again, _why_ do we care?" asked Turvin.

"Because it's a babe. How'd yew feel if it were yew tied up an' bein' taunted by a buncha beasts ready to eat yew?"

"I'd fight 'em off before they tied me up," she snapped.

Dead-Eye huffed. "Wot d'yew want us ta do? It's yore call, Trae."

The weasel grinned. "I thought you two don't need my 'elp? Yore the trackers; you guys decide."

Dead-Eye and Turvin went silent for a moment, considering their decisions. Dead-Eye chuckled quietly to himself before looking at Trae.

"I'm feelin' generous today. Let's go help the poor feller out."

"Well, I'm feelin' _smart_ today. Let's leave the poor bastard ta get eaten," said Turvin.

"Damn. That's a shame, Turvin, cause I'm feelin' generous today myself. It's two against one; we go help 'im. We gotta be quick about so get yore weapons ready."

"But—"

"Deal with it, Turvin. If the snake's poisonous, it's poisonous. You better kill that thing 'afore it bites one of us, Dead-Eye."

"No problem sah!"

The newts and snake were still oblivious, even as the three vermin started to walk towards them. The average-sized snake was having too much fun hissing and laughing in his prey's face. The victim, a hedgehog no more than six seasons old, was still whimpering and crying, hoping this was all just a bad dream. The bigger of the two newts snickered as he licked his short dagger and placed it against the hog's throat.

"NO! No, please, I dun wanna die!" he whined.

"Shaddap, breakfast! I'm doin' ye a favour! One swift slice an' you'll be dead 'afore ya even know what happened!"

"Stop talkin' an' get on wif it!" snarled the other newt.

The leader of the trio was about to kill the hog when a loud THUD filled their earholes. The newts' snake companion stopped moving and slithering around. Blinking, the smaller newt glanced at the snake and gasped. A massive spear was lodged in its skull, and blood was running down the reptile's limp body. Both newts stopped paying attention to the hedgehog and gasped when they turned and saw Dead-Eye standing a few feet away, grinning wickedly. The small newt didn't have time to say anything; Turvin struck quick and fast. Being skilled with throwing knives, she tossed two of them at the newt, slaying him instantly as they were planted into his chest.

"Wot—"

The other newt didn't have enough time to comprehend everything. He held out his dagger when Trae rushed forward, dirk in paw. Using his swift movements, the weasel stabbed the newt in the arm, causing him to shout and drop his dagger. Then he removed the dirk from his arm and planted the blade deep into the newt's throat. The slimy creature let out a gurgling sound as blood erupted from his mouth and he shuddered. The weasel growled with satisfaction before removing the blade, and the newt's body collapsed to the ground. The hedgehog stopped crying, but became nervous once he noticed that his rescuers were bloodthirsty vermin no different from the beasts they just slayed. Turvin exhaled.

"That was fast. You'd think they'd be a li'l more prepared or somethin'."

Dead-Eye walked over to the snake's corpse and grunted as he removed his spear from the reptile's skull. He stared at the brownish-black scales and chuckled. "Ya see? Got all worked up fer nothin'! This was just a grass snake, Turvin."

"Regardless, we just took that risk for nothin'. We shouldn't—wot are you doin' now?!"

Trae was standing behind the tree, grunting as he sawed his way through the ropes that bound the hedgehog to it. "No point in just leavin' 'im here after we went through the trouble to save 'im."

Turvin and Dead-Eye watched with surprise as the weasel eventually cut the hedgehog loose. Panting, the hog shoved the ropes away, still shaking as he looked up at the vermin. One was wearing an eye patch and donning a repulsive grin, another was filthy and carrying a throwing knife in her right paw, and the last one had blood splattered all over his face. Needless to say, the hog still didn't feel safe.

"Y…you rescue—"

"If I was you, I'd start runnin' back the way I came," Trae said.

The hedgehog couldn't stop staring at the weasel. After all the stories he heard about vermin, he couldn't comprehend why three of them would willingly kill the beasts who kidnapped and planned to eat him. Trae, getting irritated, crouched down so his muzzle was almost touching the hog's nose.

"_Now_," he snarled.

There was no need to ask twice. The hog turned around and began to run as fast as his small legs would take him. Just as Trae stood straight up, one of the branches above the weasel cracked and a few leaves fell to the ground. Suddenly, a cloaked beast jumped down from the tree, landing in the soft mud with a squishy thud. In the time it took to blink, the beast had his bow out, with an arrow aimed right for the fleeing babe. Trae saw what the beast was doing and quickly grabbed his arms, lowering them.

"What the hell are you doin'?!"

The beast, a ferret who dyed most of his fur red with black stripes on it, spoke in a soft and monotonous voice. "Killing that babe, if you would let go of my arms, that is."

"Yore not slayin' him! Not after we just went through all the trouble to free him!"

The cloaked ferret slowly turned and faced Trae. Most of his head was hidden beneath the red cloak's hood, but Trae could still see the ferret's menacing amber eyes and the scowl that seemed to be permanently glued on his muzzle.

"Then why, pray tell, did you rescue him to begin with?"

"Because he's just a babe, Bloodbrain! No point in lettin' some newts an' a snake have their way with 'im!"

"So if he were my age, you would have left him to die?"

"Yes," Trae lied.

Bloodbrain was about to call the weasel out on his lie, but by now, he couldn't even see the hedgehog. He sighed heavily, disappointed that he couldn't use his bow. The ferret calmly set his arrow back in his quiver and lowered his bow.

"Shame. I was hoping for a little target practice this morning. Did you three find anything else?"

Turvin and Dead-Eye shook their heads. "Nope! Just a snake an' some newts. No monitor lizards or wotever the hell Razzik said killed our mates last night."

Bloodbrain blinked and nodded. "Then regroup with your captain's army. We've been waiting longer than we should've been."

The menacing ferret turned and walked away from the trackers and Trae. Turvin scoffed and folded her arms.

"Glad _somebeast_ thought my suggestion was a good one. Let's go."

As the three vermin started to head to what was left of Kurwin's crew, Dead-Eye started to snicker.

"Oh dear, the great an' bloodthirsty Traegar Rigglo, set astray by his conscience! S'matter, ya goin' soft on us?"

"Fuck you, Dead-Eye! It was yore idea ta free 'im in the first place! You got a conscience too; you just don't wanna admit it. What, did you plan on searchin' his pockets fer vittles and stealin' 'em after we freed him?"

The ferret blinked. "More or less."

* * *

The hares were all glad that they finally stopped walking. Ever since the Long Patrol encountered the stray vermin in the woods the other night, they had been roaming around Mossflower for what seemed like forever, only stopping to eat some food, empty their bladders, and void their bowels. But even the valiant badger known as Urthquake knew when he needed a break, and given how weary his army was, he knew it wouldn't kill them to sleep for a few hours tonight. So he and his army all decided to set up camp alongside River Moss. A majority of the hares were sleeping, but there were others still wide awake, always on the alert for any wandering vermin. Those not on patrol were busy bathing themselves or having a bite to eat before they slept for the night. Urthquake, as much as he didn't want to admit it, was gradually nodding off as he sat near the river, watching as the moonlight sparkled off the surface of the water. The badger rumbled and rubbed his head, running a paw down his blue stripe.

"No shame in admitting you're tired, sah. Can't stay awake your whole life, wot!"

The badger turned and glanced down at the chubby dark brown hare in his red coat. Urthquake grumbled and blinked, still trying to stay alert.

"I'm fine, Fenson. Just…bored is all."

Fenson snickered. "You mean irritated that you're not slainin' vermin?"

Urthquake smirked a little. "Maybe."

"Even you gotta call it quits someday, sah. You're not gonna be here forever."

"That's why I want to do what I can now. Can't accomplish anything if my army's spending all their time snoring away at night."

"And you can't fend off vermin if your army's too weary to fight, if their footpaws are red and bloody from walkin' around a week straight without stoppin'."

"Hmph, you're starting to sound like Hollis."

"I am not! That bloated windbag throws a fit if he sees so much as a scar ignored! 'Ooh, let me fix that for you; it'll get infected if I don't!' Tchah, the only beast I know who never relaxes in this whole unit besides you is good ole Stink Mouth!"

"I'm surprised at you Major, badmouthing your caring lieutenant that way—and in front of a Badger Lord too. Perhaps _you_ should be the one who stays up all night on patrol with the gallopers."

Major Fenson coughed a few times and sniffled. "Well, you know, got back problems, eyes goin' bad in my old age, and, err…sleep deprivation is bad for my health, dont'cha know! I'd only slow them gallopin' chaps down; guess I won't be able to join 'em!"

Urthquake rarely ever smiled. At best he would smirk or grin smugly, usually in his own twisted and comical way. He looked down at the hare with a smug grin on his face and chuckled quietly.

"Guess not."

"…I am serious though. No need to overwork yourself, sah."

"Tell you what: I'll stop working so hard when I stop waking up with the stench of vermin filling my nostrils."

Fenson scratched behind his left ear. "Err…I believe that 'stench' might be you, sah. Been a while since you took off that armor and cleaned yourself. Perhaps you should rectify that, wot?"

With all the time the badger spent patrolling Mossflower and the neighboring lands, he rarely found the time to take off his armor and actually bathe himself whenever they stopped at a river. The badger grumbled and scratched his head.

"Fair enough. I suppose a quick bath won't kill me," said the badger, standing up. "But I'm not going to sleep."

"If you say so," said Fenson with a smirk, knowing the giant beast would be unconscious in less than an hour.

The rest of the area around the river was the same. Buried beneath the canopy were dozens and dozens of hares all grouped around campfires. Some were busy walking around the area with bows and arrows equipped—mostly the gallopers and corporals—while others were busy trying to sleep or chow down on the food they brought along or gathered. The same plump hare in the blue coat that kept getting irritated over Bosca's friends not calling him a hare was sitting on a log, sucking his left paw clean. He promptly opened his mouth and belched loudly, much to the annoyance of the hare sitting next to him.

"I was gone for three minutes!"

The giant hare snickered and licked his lips. "Not my fault ya left such a perfectly good dessert just lyin' around."

"That was _my_ apple crumble, Becker! D'you know Friar Gavley made that specifically for me?!"

"Oh my, now that was rude of him! Surely the jolly ole mouse could've made more for the rest of us, wot! Wouldn't you chaps like apple crumble too?"

"Yes!"

"You know I'll scoff anythin' sweet!"

"Crumble? Where?!"

"Yeah, mate! Why didn't the friar make _us_ any apple crumble?"

Becker chuckled. "Y'see, Saron? We all would've _loved_ a bite of that crumble! Shame on you for not sharin' it with us!"

"Fine. Wotever. If you're so 'noble,' why didn't _you_ share it with any other beast?"

Now everybeast around the campfire started to scowl as they stared at Becker.

"Yeah."

"Mind explain' that to us?"

"Did ya 'ave to eat it _all_, Becker?"

Becker chuckled casually, knowing he could easily get himself out of this situation if he lied hard enough. "Ah, yes…that. Y'see, I did all of you a favour! Good ole Saronso was only gone for three minutes. If I had shared it with you, then we would've gotten into a long and arduous, more importantly, savage argument about who gets what piece, how big the pieces are, who gets the last bite—you get the idea. And in all that confusion, Saron here would've taken her apple crumble and ate it silently to herself while she watched us all get into a big squabble! Therefore, I felt it was only incumbent of me to remove temptation from your lives, by eating all the apple crumble myself!"

Saron stared at Becker with wide eyes, before glancing over at all the young, more importantly, not-so-bright corporals sitting on the logs and scratching their heads. One of them shrugged, no longer upset.

"Oh."

"Huh…makes sense to me."

"Good thinkin', Becker! Now none of us will end up fightin' each other and lookin' like idiots, wot!"

Becker turned and faced Saronso with a satisfied grin on his face. "See, Saron? Gobblin' up your crumble was a good thing, wot!"

Saronso slapped her left paw against her forehead and exhaled. "I'm surrounded by fuckin' morons."

While Saron was busy trying to comprehend the corporals' level of intelligence, a few other hares were busy fishing with spears. Two of them were watching the spectacle while the others were actually standing by the river, hoping to snag some of the fish before they went to sleep. One hare jabbed a spear into the water with a loud splash, but struck nothing. He snarled as he looked at the empty end of the stick.

"You almost got it that time," said a female hare.

"Shut up, Frenquil! You're breakin' my concentration!"

"Perhaps if you hold the spear correctly, it'll improve—"

"You are more than welcome to catch your own bloomin' fish, wot! I've been at this all night!"

"It's not the way yore holdin' it, Captain. Yore not bein' patient h'enough for it. Let the fish come to you," said another hare also hunting for fish.

The captain didn't respond. He just kept staring at the water, watching as the silver-scaled fish slowly swam along the river. The captain grinned widely once he saw a particularly large adult fish that was bigger than his head move through the water. He shouted and stabbed at the water—and missed the fish entirely.

"DAMN IT!"

The captain turned around and saw that Frenquil and her younger brother Morson were busy chuckling at him. He tossed the spear down and huffed.

"I'm relievin' you two of your duties. Now get your arses down 'ere an' catch some fish!"

Morson nodded. "Yes, of course! We'll get right on that, sah! Stanno, go grab some fish."

The young hare that was busy cleaning blood off his throwing knives looked up at Morson and blinked. "What for? Captain Qwuintuff just gave _you_ an' _Frenquil_ a direct order, not me."

"But you're not bein' productive right now; catchin' fish is more important than cleanin' a little blood off your blades."

"And what the 'ell are you two doin'?! You're just sittin' on your arses expectin'—"

"Whoa, that is your _lieutenant_ you are speakin' to, Sarn't. You better watch your tone!" warned Frenquil.

"Just 'cos you two are lieutenants don't make you any better'n the rest of us!"

"Uh, actually it does," said Morson with a smug grin.

"An' let's not forget, we're both older'n you, _little_ brother," Frenquil added, with an equally nasty grin.

Stanno growled. "Yes, I know. You two remind me every day."

The other hare carrying a spear thrust it into the water and quickly took it out. Then he grunted and tossed the spear on the ground in front of the other hares, with a fat silver-scaled fish impaled on the end of it.

"There, I caught one. Now everybeast shut the fuck up," he snarled.

The captain grinned widely and swiftly yanked the fish off the spear, grabbing it by the tail. He licked his lips and chuckled evilly.

"Good job, Issarck! You troops get the fire started; I'll deal with cleanin' an' guttin' it."

Just as the two lieutenants were about to issue more orders to Stanno, Morson flared his nostrils and scowled as he wiggled his nose. "Lakler's back."

"How d'you—"

"Trust me, he's back. Nasty li'l slob smells worse'n a searat."

Nobeast said anything for a few seconds. The other hares sniffed the air and detected the rotten odor as well, which only confirmed Morson's suspicions. About twenty seconds later, they heard somebeast moving around through bushes nearby. Everybeast turned and saw two hares both dressed in standard clothing: tunics and pantaloons, as opposed to customary Long Patrol clothing. It was easy to tell them apart, given that the hare on the left was very tall and smelled absolutely foul. Morson scoffed.

"See? Told you he was back."

Lakler laughed as he and the other hare joined the others. "Nice tae see ya too! Hope we didnae miss the grub!"

Qwuintuff grunted as he started to slice off a nice piece of filet from the fish. "Nope. Just in time actually."

The tall hare laughed again as he sat down beside Qwuintuff. The other hare could see that Issarck was trying to make a fire and began to help out.

"Anythin' to report?" asked the captain.

Lakler shook his head. "Nah! Well, t'was somethin' odd me an' Elonv found out there. Some lizzy-thingie just walkin' 'round in circles!"

Frenquil glanced over at Lakler and scowled when she saw the hare shamelessly stick a paw in his trousers so he could scratch his crotch. The dirty hare sighed with relief before he continued.

"Didnae see vermin though. Been real quiet tonight!"

"You might wanna send somebeast to check it out. Who knows, could be a scout for a group of bandits," said Elonv.

"And you just left him there?!" shouted Morson.

"Och, no need tae raise voice! Not like me an' Elonv didnae spy on 'im for a guid deal of time!"

"He just kept…walkin'. Goin' over his own footsteps, mumblin' to himself. Bloke's prob'ly not right in the head; I doubt he's a threat to us."

"Still, you left him there without even checkin' ta see if he's dangerous! Go find this lizard, Stanno. An' take Honward with you," Morson ordered.

Stanno didn't feel like engaging in an argument that he knew would result in his brother and sister belittling him like they always did, so he just huffed and stood up, ready to go look for Honward.

"Which way was the lizard spotted?"

"Just keep headin' east 'til you see some fallen beech trees and berry bushes. He's prob'ly still there," said Elonv.

"All right. Save me some fish," said Stanno as he began to walk away.

"Wotever you say!" shouted Qwuintuff.

* * *

So there the two sergeants were, walking through the woods using only the moon as their source of light. The red-coated hares kept examining their surroundings, making sure that no vermin were around and waiting to spring any traps. Stanno would occasionally see a few flying insects buzzing around the water or clinging onto the trees, but the whole area seemed tranquil. Honward was more relaxed compared to Stanno, but he still had his sling in paw in case there was any ranged fighting involved. A bird flapped its wings and landed on a tree branch, ruffling some of the leaves in the process. The hares heard no hooting or earsplitting squawks, so they assumed that whatever beast was up in the trees wasn't hostile.

"You seem a little edgy tonight," said Honward.

"I'm fine, Hon. Just the regular family problems is all."

Hon snickered. "That again, eh?"

"How the fuck is anybeast s'posed to work around 'em?! They're the kind of hares who make you think twice about becomin' a member of the Long Patrol, wot!"

"They're just pickin' on you 'cos you became a Sarn't at such a young age. You're only three seasons older'n Tike, and he's still a corporal!"

"Seriously?"

Honward nodded. "You knew this would be hard the day you volunteered. Can't just up and quit 'cos you don't like two lieutenants."

"I'm fine with battlin' vermin, killin' beasts and havin' blood splattered all over my face. If it all means I'm protectin' my family, then I'm okay with that. Ain't that the point of becomin' a Long Patrol hare: to keep goodbeasts safe?"

"We all 'ave our reasons for joinin', Stanno. Some of us just like the thrill of it, to be honest."

"Why'd you join?"

Hon shrugged. "Tike an' I've been friends for a while now. Grew up in the same village, played the same games, did the same fieldwork, all that good stuff."

"Then vermin attacked your village an' everythin' changed, right?"

"Not exactly. …Well, yeah, some vermin came to our village one day—just some bandits travelin' through, wanted to steal our food and stuff. But they didn't last long; my father, Tike's mum, and a few other hares chased 'em off or killed 'em. We weren't leverets anymore, but we weren't fully grown either. Still, we just thought it was cool to see. But there were leverets in the village, and they all saw wot happened."

Honward blinked and shook his head. "They weren't the same after that. Didn't talk much anymore, had a tough time sleepin'; they was always scared bandits would roam through again. So me, Tike, an' a few other hares decided to stand up for the village, show 'em that they have no reason to be scared. Heh, you shoulda seen their faces when we came back a couple seasons later."

"Wot happened?"

Honward grinned. "Let's just say they ain't scared of vermin anymore."

Stanno chuckled. "I bet not!"

The two hares were about to resume chatting about their history when they heard a loud snarl. Both of them grabbed the hilts of their sabres and slowly began to walk forward. Stanno spotted the beech trees that had fallen last winter and exhaled, knowing the reptile was close.

"There's the beech trees Elonv was talkin' about," whispered Stanno.

"And there's our li'l friend," Hon added.

The two hares saw a pale yellowish-green lizard walking around in a circle. Both hares looked around the environment and sniffed the air, still thinking a trap was nearby. But besides the lizard, they didn't smell anything out of the ordinary. Nevertheless, they approached the beast with their sabres drawn. Honward was the first one to speak once he got up close.

"We'll make this simple: put down the knife, an' walk—"

Honward backed away and shouted once the lizard hissed and started to wildly flail around, swinging his knife at him. The long-eared creature easily countered the attacks with his much longer sword and grunted as he tried to slice the lizard's face off. But the agile reptile rolled out of the way and began to back up.

"It's two against one! We oughta just slay ya right now, but we're in a good mood tonight, wot!" said Stanno.

"That'll change _very_ quickly if you try that again! Now where's your group?" demanded Hon.

The lizard growled and snarled as he stared at the two hares. "Group…what group?"

"You're spyin' on us! You must've been followin' us; your group's not far behind, yeah? How many's with you: a score, twoscore?"

"Wot are they: lizards like you, ferrets, water rats, voles?"

The sly and crazed lizard chuckled softly as he licked his blade. "Silly little rabbits…"

"We're hares, for fuck's sake! We gotta remind you vermin of that everytime we run into you?" asked Stanno.

The lizard ignored him and kept backing up. "He's coming…bringer of destruction…chaos…death in lizard form."

"Wot…who's comin'?"

"Krassak…all those lizards…all those-those…they're gonna kill you all…gonna eat you all…"

"Tch! Elonv was right; this guy ain't right in the head."

"Krassak Ralfur…so much death, so-s-so much glory for lizards! You hares…you all die…you-you'll all fall down…die!"

Honward sighed and lowered his sabre. "D'you still wanna slay 'im? Or should we just leave and let him keep babblin' to himself?"

"He _is_ dangerous if anybeast gets near him."

"You all die! Bow before Krassak, mightiest of all Monitors!"

Stanno frowned upon hearing the last bit of the lizard's statement. "Monitors…you mean monitor lizards?"

"ALL HAIL KRASSAK RALFUR!"

The lizard laughed madly as he lifted his knife and placed it against his throat. Then he slowly sliced his neck open, gasping and coughing as blood began to gush out.

"Wot the hell?!" shouted Honward.

The bleeding lizard was still grinning and chuckling, even as he bled out. He backed up against a tree and slowly sat down, his laughs becoming quieter and quieter. The sergeants could do nothing but stare at the reptile in bewilderment, watching as he eventually bled to death and disappeared into the Dark Forest. Stanno and Honward looked at each other before looking back down at the dead lizard.

"Wot just 'appened?"

* * *

Urthquake was standing in front of the two sergeants, rubbing his chin after hearing such a bizarre story. "And then he just slit his own throat?"

Stanno nodded. "I know, sir. It's strange, but…wot if he was sendin' us a warnin'? D'you know anything about this Krassak fellow?"

"Why are we even debatin' this?! Some loony lizard spouts out some name and now you two are frightened of it?!" shouted Morson.

"He's right. H'I doubt we should be worryin' 'bout some lizards this far inland. 'Sides, winter just ended; no monitor lizards could survive all that cold weather!" said Issarck.

"Okay, so wot are you all sayin': we ran into a crazed lizard who warned us about this Ralfur guy, then he slit his own throat for no reason? Doesn't make any sense," said Honward.

"No, it doesn't," Urthquake added. "Then again, we've all had our run-ins with beasts who weren't right in the head. Some good, some bad, but they were all crazy."

Stanno sighed exasperatedly. "So we're gonna do nothin', just sit on our paws'n ignore this?"

"Tch! Why shouldn't we? We haven't encountered more than threescores of lizards all in one group in over six seasons! Why should we worry now?" asked Frenquil.

The large badger stopped rubbing his chin and exhaled. "I'm not going to forget about Krassak Ralfur, whoever he is. And from here on out, we're gonna be on the lookout for any presence of monitor lizards."

"But?" asked Stanno, already knowing the Badger Lord wasn't finished.

"But we have no evidence suggesting what that lizard said is true, and even if it is, we don't know where to look, and we don't even know how hostile Krassak is. Given his condition, that lizard might've been exaggerating. We're not wasting time hunting down a lizard that may not even be real."

"And wot if he is real?"

Urthquake shrugged. "Then we'll deal with him and his followers when the time comes. For now, we need to focus on other rumors we _do_ know are true."

"You mean those vermin we tracked down last night?" asked Honward.

"Exactly. The Guosim have been getting attacked by a group of nomads the last several days. They've been getting bolder with each attack, and the last time I spoke to Log-a-Log, he told me he lost a few shrews. The Guosim think their camp is somewhere around the river. It's possible the vermin we slew last night were trying to get back with all the other beasts."

"And I take it that ole fat shrew wants us to 'handle' these vermin for him, wot?" asked Morson.

Urthquake flashed another one of his smirks. "Precisely. Now all of you get some rest. We leave as soon as it's dawn, and we're not stopping until we find this camp."

* * *

Kurwin's crew, like any traveling group, needed to take a long rest as well. And given that the corsairs were running low on food, Kurwin figured that now was the perfect time for his pirates to look for more vittles. The corsairs were being more laid-back than they should've been though, spending most of their time joking with one another or drinking grog before one of their buddies scoffed the rest. The corsairs were all resting in a deserted section of Mossflower that was occupied with dead trees. All of them built a series of campfires to brighten up the area, while others were busy making new arrows or spears purely out of boredom. Anybeast who saw the scene from afar would've assumed that they were just a group of nomads who were stationed in the forest for the night. But upon getting closer to the beasts and having a good look at their messy clothes and crude weaponry, they would've known right away that they were staring at a group of scavenging killers, nothing more. One of these so-called "killers" was busy snatching off several odd-colored berries from a bush, his mouth watering. Dead-Eye walked behind this corsair and raised an eyebrow after looking at the berries.

"Err, Slipfoot? Yew prob'ly shouldn't eat those."

The fat rat scoffed. "An' why not?"

"'Cos yew'll be shittin' yore guts out 'afore dawn."

Slipfoot stared at the strange berries and suddenly tossed them on the ground. Impatient, the fat rat started to walk back over to the campfire where several other vermin were gathered around. Two of them were just trying to stay warm, while another one was busy cooking fish directly over the open flame. The other vermin were gathered around Razzik and listening to the black rat's grisly tale about his encounter with the monitor lizards. The red-eyed fox just laughed as he spoke to his fellow corsair.

"So let me get this straight: the lizards are big, nasty beasts that are murderous, frightening, an' they 'ave an odor problem?"

The rat nodded. "Exactly!"

Turvin blinked. "Razzik, you just summed half the corsairs in this crew."

Some of the vermin started to laugh out loud, while one of the vermin sitting beside the fire noticed that the flames were getting a little low. The dark brown rat known as Blowhorn grinned and snickered to himself. He stood up and approached the weak flame, turning around as he began to undo his trousers. Turvin reached over and grabbed the rat's paws, stopping him.

"Don't you _dare_," she growled.

"Wot?! Fire's almost out!"

"So feed it more wood, not gas. I'm still roastin' this fish fer fuck's sake. None of us need ta lose our appetite 'cos of yer arse!" said the beast roasting the fish.

"This is gonna come out sooner or later! Yew guys can't force me ta 'old it in!"

"So let it out _away_ from us, Blowhorn. Go bug Tugger or sumthin'!" said Longfang.

Blowhorn blinked. "Is he busy chokin' that snake of his?"

"You know he is," said Turvin.

The brown rat growled as he spotted the grayish-black rat playing with himself. He snickered as he started to walk towards him. Turvin sighed heavily and rubbed her head now that the flatulent rat was gone.

"You should be lucky, Razzik. At least these so-called monitors weren't annoyin' like Blowhorn is."

"Wh-what did you guys expect me ta do?! Chop off one of their tails an' bring it to you as proof?!"

Slipfoot fished some stale bread out of one of the sacks of food and promptly started to munch on it, trying not to grimace at how hard and bitter it tasted. "Just hard ta believe yer, mate! Ain't heard of a monitor lizard since Ublaz were still livin'! Next you'll be sayin' you spotted a wolverine!"

The beast who was busy roasting his fish took it out of the flame. He could tell that the meat was a little burnt, but at this point, he didn't care. He blew on it a few times and waited for it to cool down before taking a bite out of it.

"Actually, there are wolverines 'round the Northlands."

"Lotta bad shite up in the Northlands, Plaskin. Don't mean there's wolverines crawlin' 'round there," said Dead-Eye.

Bloodeye took a swig of grog. "S'pose there be adders 'n' nasty li'l scorpions up there too?"

"I'm serious, mates! Me and my brother used ta hear stories 'bout 'em all the time!"

"An' those stories is no different from Razzik's tale about these monitor lizards!"

"D'you guys even care that we're fourteen corsairs short? Fourteen of our friends are dead, the-their bodies hacked ta bits and scattered all over!"

Bloodeye huffed and rolled his eyes. "Now yore just exaggeratin'."

Before anybeast could say anything else, they were interrupted by a loud and disgusting sputtering sound a couple yards away, which was immediately followed by raucous laughter and a squeaky yelp.

"DAMN IT, BLOWHORN!"

The dark gray rat that was busy pleasuring himself started to stomp away from Blowhorn, grumbling as he pulled up his trousers. Blowhorn followed him, still laughing and taunting the beast.

"HAHAHAHAHA, oh, ya shoulda seen yer face!"

"SHURRUP! 'Ow many times 'ave ah said not ter bother me when ah'm strokin'?! THAT WAS RIGHT IN MAH EARS!"

"S'matter, Tugger? Sound made ya shrink?"

"Ah told alla yer over'n over'n over again! DO NOT! BOTHER ME! WHILE AH'M STROKIN'!"

Blowhorn nodded. "Gotcha. We'll leave ya alone whenever yore practicin' yer swimmin'."

Blowhorn ducked right when Tugger tried to punch him. Fed up with the brown rat's disgusting pranks (and irritated that he lost his erection), he stormed off in a huff, mumbling to himself in his squeaky voice. Some of the beasts sitting around the campfire stared at the rat as he walked away, prompting him to snap out "FUCK YE LOOKIN' AT?!" in a seemingly unnatural high voice. Blowhorn returned to the group, still laughing as he sat down beside Bloodeye.

"Really, Blowhorn?" asked Dead-Eye.

The rat stopped snickering. "Yew have to admit: 'twas funny!"

"You passed gas next to a rat's ear while 'e was playin' with himself. I fail ta see the humor in that," said Turvin.

"'Cos none a' yew know wot true humor is!"

"We can be funny without expellin' bodily fluids."

"Or gases!" Dead-Eye quickly added.

Blowhorn scoffed. "Hmph! Sooner or later yew'll warm up to it!"

Razzik rubbed his forehead. "Can we get back to the whole lizard issue?"

"Wot for?!" shouted Bloodeye. "There ain't no lizards, there ain't no wolverines, an' Blowhorn's arse can wake the souls restin' behind the Hellgates. End of story!"

Plaskin took another bite of his fish. "Fine. Forget it. Watch wot 'appens next time we're in the Northlands an' none a' yew are prepared when we run into a wolverine."

"Jus' 'cos yer older'n us an' seen a lot more shit than we 'ave don't make it true!"

Turvin sighed heavily and stood up, swallowing the last of the berries she had been eating. "I'm goin' on patrol since all you guys keep bickerin' back an' forth like two babes fightin' over the last vittle. Anybeast wanna join me?"

Longfang finished eating his chunk of hard stale bread, swallowing with a hard gulp. "Aye, I'll join ya."

The rat and stoat walked away from the campfire to regroup with some of the other beasts who were busy scoping out the area for intruders. Everything around the campfire suddenly became quiet. The only sounds the beasts could hear were the fire crackling and Slipfoot and Plaskin eating their food. Razzik looked down at the ground and sighed softly.

"Don't you even _care_ that fourteen corsairs were torn apart, that they died 'orribly, that some were eaten alive piece by piece? Even if they wasn't monitors…don't you think we should be lookin' for the monsters that did this?"

"Nope!" said Bloodeye bluntly. "To tell you the truth, I hated half of those guys anyway. One of 'em whined way too much—like you do—an' the other was just stupid. He chopped off the toes on his left foot jugglin' cutlasses…fuckin' idiot."

Slipfoot could see that Razzik was looking quite down, so he swallowed the stale chunk of bread in his mouth and snickered, trying to make light of the situation.

"Look on the bright side: if any lizards or wolverines or whatever do come an' try to kill us, we can fend 'em off with Dead-Eye's bad breath an' Blowhorn's farts!"

Nobeast said anything, although Dead-Eye did turn and face Slipfoot, looking like he wanted to carve one of his eyes out. Slipfoot could see that everybeast was still being very silent, so he slowly stood up and awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

"Right…I'll, err, see yew guys in the mornin'."

"I should prob'ly get some sleep too. Last thing yew all need is me plaguin' yore 'sensitive' noses with me breath, right?"

The rat and ferret walked away from the campfire. Plaskin, feeling tired, got up and left as well, taking the filet he had roasting on a stick. He didn't even bother to say anything after the heated argument with Bloodeye. Blowhorn laughed as he looked at Bloodeye and Razzik, who were the only other beasts sitting by the burning logs.

"Guess it's just the three of us, eh?"

Bloodeye huffed. "It's late, and I'm bored of talkin'. I'll catch you guys in the mornin'…unless some bloodthirsty lizards happen to sneak into camp and tear me ta shreds in my sleep."

Razzik looked up at the fox's nasty grin and watched as he stood up and began to walk away. But before he left, he made sure to give Blowhorn a warning, "Blowhorn, if you wake me up with yore gas again, I will shove my daggers up yore arse. Got it?"

"Awright, calm down! No need ta get hostile!"

The vulpine walked away, just leaving Blowhorn and Razzik now. The dark brown rat grinned and shifted over so he was sitting down on the same log Razzik sat on. He put his left arm around the black rodent's shoulders and laughed.

"Guess it's just yew an' me, buddy! Yew know the ole sayin': the rats that stay together, stink together!"

Razzik turned and looked at Blowhorn with a depressed, but equally irritated glare. Blowhorn frowned and turned away, awkwardly scratching behind his right ear.

"Yeah, I'm gonna rest now too. Just make sure ya put out the fire 'afore yew sleep."

"Okay."

Blowhorn got off the log and sat down on the ground instead. He slouched forward slightly, his back pressed against the same chunk of wood, before he raised his arms and stretched, grunting and cracking a couple of bones. Then the rat exhaled and put his paws behind his head, using them as a pillow. Razzik watched the brown rat close his eyes before he blinked and stared into the dying fire. He thought about getting some sleep too, but he couldn't. He couldn't forget about the lizards who tormented him, poked him with their swords, laughed at him after he wet his trousers. Most importantly, he couldn't forget their devilish grins, the blood splattered all over their bodies, the flesh hanging from their mouths…flesh from his own shipmates. As Razzik stared into the fire, he thought he saw those same reptilian faces dancing around in the fire. He thought the crackling he heard were the sounds of his shipmates screaming as they died. Razzik closed his eyes and sighed. He had seen what he thought were the most fearsome creatures ever to walk on land, ever to kill.

And yet, none of his friends even believed they existed anymore.


	3. Necessary Violence

**III**

**Necessary Violence**

The light gray rat looked down at the shorter rat sitting next to him. He was busy scowling as he looked at the chunk of bread in his paws. The short rodent groaned, preparing to throw the bread in the dirt. The taller rat kicked him in the side and snorted.

"Eat yore bread, Danik."

"I dun wanna! S'all wet an' soggy!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't 'ave left it out last night like I warned ya."

The shorter rat looked at his disgusting, soggy bread before glancing up at the older gray rat and noticing how much fresher his bread was.

"Can I 'ave summa yours?"

The older, yet still adolescent rat closed his eyes and sighed heavily. The two rodents sitting on a log across from him stared at the exasperated rat and scowled.

"Tegast, share with yore brother," said his mother.

"I told 'im not to—"

"Wot did yer mother say, Tegast? We hardly 'ave enough food as it is," said Tegast's father.

Tegast glanced over at Danik, who was sitting down with a nasty smirk on his face. The older of the two brothers broke his bread in half and gave it to Danik. The smaller rat chuckled as he started to stuff his face.

"Thanks, Brother!"

The four rats ate what food they had in silence. Considering what happened a few nights ago, they had to so they wouldn't get caught. The rats were merely a small portion of a tribe of nomads roaming through Mossflower. It wasn't a large tribe, or even one that got along with each other, but the whole reason why the tribe was created was so they could look out for each other. The vermin didn't want to stay in Mossflower, but at the same time, the tribe couldn't live in the Northlands without having to worry about beasts much more bloodthirsty than them trying to slaughter everybeast. So they spent their lives traveling the country, never staying in one location for more than a week at most. Right now the tribe was still in Mossflower, far away from the dreaded community that was made of reddish bricks. They stuck close to the river so they always had some food source in case they ran out—which, as of this moment, was nearly the case. The area they were in was thick with trees that made average beasts look like infant pygmy shrews. All the leaves were starting to bloom now that it was a new season, so the tribe had lots of shade and cover.

The area actually looked pretty serene. It was nothing more than thirty or so beasts relaxing in the woods and eating breakfast. They weren't getting drunk or singing songs with their dreadful, gruff voices, or even threatening each other. At worst, a few rats would get into an argument over how much food each tribe member could get, but nothing ever resorted to a beast drawing his or her weapon. Tegast looked at all the beasts around him as he chewed his bread before he saw a few more rats appearing from the woods. There were only three of them, but they were carrying giant sacks on their backs. However, Tegast noticed that they all had blood on their clothes, and one of them looked wounded. After the rats put the sacks down, the hungry vermin who didn't have anything to eat rushed over after sniffing the air. Most of them shoved the three rats out the way and dug their filthy paws into the sacks, pulling out what looked like raspberries, various hazelnuts, and even some fine cheeses and vegetables. Danik smelled the food too and giggled as he hopped off the log he was sitting on to go fetch some.

"Sit down, Danik," said his father.

"But-but they gots—"

"Now," he snarled.

Danik lowered his ears and whined as he sat back down. "We dun never gets da good vittles!"

"At least we get somethin'…where do they get all that stuff anyway?" asked Tegast.

"We find it an' take it," Tegast's mother said bluntly.

"But wot if it ain't ours?"

"That's how takin' works, Son. If you steal it, then yore the new owner of wot you stole."

"But wot about the previous owners?"

Tegast's father snorted. "Wot about 'em?"

"Ain't it wrong to take somethin' that isn't ours from somebeast else?"

"Not if the other beast is some fat ass who spends all day gettin' drunk on fancy wine and slayin' beasts like us fer fun," he snarled.

"Wot yore father means is…if ya do somethin' 'bad' for a good reason, then it contradicts itself."

"It wot?"

"It becomes nullified."

Tegast and Danik kept staring at their mother with a blank gaze, causing her to sigh. "It cancels each other out."

"Oh," said Tegast as he ate more bread. "But why not just ask for vittles? Wouldn't other beasts share—"

"No, they don't, Son. You 'aven't been alive long enough ta see how things really work. All those woodlanders look at us like we're demons, nothin' more! Jus' 'cos beasts like Cluny the Scourge ruined it fer the rest of us!" said Tegast's father.

"But Brother isn't, um, Loony the Score."

"Cluny, honey," said Danik's mother.

"Danik's got a point, Dad. We're not Cluny, and we prob'ly never will be. Why can't we just try to be friends with the woodlanders? Why do we need to steal from everybeast when we can just ask them for stuff?"

Tegast's father stopped eating and sighed heavily as he put his bread down. He shut his eyes and began to rub his head, gradually getting irritated. "You remember Tanlin?"

"That ferret who died last season?"

"Yes, him. You wanna know how he died?"

"Maybe you should wait—"

Tegast's father ignored his mate. "We were out lookin' fer food while it were snowin'. Couldn't fish, couldn't find any birds, so we just went 'round lookin' fer nuts, maybe vegetables if we were lucky. Then outta nowhere, these squirrels fall from the trees, an' one of 'em put a shaft in Tanlin's chest. They waited 'til he fell to his knees 'afore one of 'em slashed his throat. Only reason I'm still here is 'cos I was hidin' in the snow like a coward…jus' watchin' him die."

Tegast stopped chewing his bread. "But…that doesn't make any sense. You two weren't doin' anythin' wrong."

"That's the fuckin' point, Tegast! They slew Tanlin 'cos he were a ferret; nothin' else! They didn't care that he were tryin' to survive winter like the rest of us! They didn't care that he had a sister to take care of! They saw wot species he were an' took it upon themselves ta kill 'im!"

"But…that ain't fair!" Danik whined.

"No, Son, it's not. And that's wot I'm tryin' to tell you two. Those woodlanders don't care about us, an' they never will. We stopped tryin' to make peace with 'em ages ago."

"Couldn't we at least keep tryin'? If vermin like us aren't all like Cluny, doesn't that mean that all goodbeasts aren't—"

"No, it doesn't, Tegast!" snarled his father.

The three beasts looked at Tegast's father and watched as he exhaled harshly and started to rub behind his head. "Now stop talkin' and go get us some fish. We have to leave soon."

"I was just—"

"NOW!"

Irritated and furious at how narrow-minded his father was, Tegast scoffed as he slammed his bread on the log he and his brother were sitting on. He knew how his father got whenever he spoke in that tone, and the last thing he needed was to get punched in the jaw again for disagreeing with him. So the gray rat stood up and walked away from his family.

"Fine," he snapped, hoping his father wouldn't yank on his tail for answering him with an attitude.

Tegast's mother and father watched as their son grabbed a spear and walked away, while Danik slyly reached over and started to nibble on Tegast's bread, figuring he wouldn't want it now.

* * *

The band of pirates had finally arrived. Somehow, all the corsairs found the Juskarord tribe without running into any hostiles (or without killing each other first). The tribe picked a decent spot to set up camp: not too many trees were in the area, so they didn't have to worry about being ambushed by squirrels. They weren't stationed at any rivers, so there was no need to worry about the Guosim or a holt of otters that spent most of their time patrolling the waters. They even made sure that the area had access to food; some of the bushes were already growing berries, and judging by the smell of the place, the tribe had killed and roasted plenty of dead birds. Some tents had been set up, fireplaces had been built, and the tribe even had all their food secured in various sacks that beasts could choose from. Kurwin and his army stared at the Juskarord tribe and all their supplies as they gradually approached them. Despite the tribe's vast number of supplies, many of the pirates couldn't help but realize that something was off about the tribe.

"Err…is this the right tribe, sah?" asked Ishlin.

The ferret snickered as he scratched the back of his head self-consciously. "Yeah, it's…they've, uh, just been relaxin' too much since winter."

"You mean they've gotten fatter'n lazy," Trae said bluntly.

Kurwin would be lying if he said that Trae was being rude. The tribe was fat, and judging by the looks of things, they had forgotten what it means to be a hard worker. A couple of rats were sitting beside a tree, all quaffing what appeared to be grog and drunkenly singing in horrible, guttural voices. Some weasels and foxes were in a belching contest, laughing as they childishly kept burping in each other's faces. An obese fox was lying on his big belly, sighing as another equally large vulpine massaged his back with his footpaws, since he was too lazy to actually bend over and use his paws. Kurwin didn't even try to count how many beasts he saw sleeping on the ground or against a tree, their weapons hanging loosely from their paws. But not everybeast was a lazy or fat slob slacking off. A few tribe members were practicing their archery skills and shooting at a few apples from several yards away, whilst a couple of stoats were engaged in a swordfight with real cutlasses, since they knew that practicing with wooden swords wouldn't be a proper reenactment if they ran into actual enemies. But out of the threescore beasts Kurwin laid eyes upon, not even a third of them were doing anything productive.

"Aye. Sounds like a proper summarization ta me," said Kronno.

"Who yer callin' fat?!" shouted one plump rat.

Kurwin and a few of his captains turned and saw a very large gray rat walking towards them. The giant beast was almost as big as a badger and could easily squeeze the life out of Kurwin and break his ribs. However, the rat's strength was useless due to his weight and poor intelligence. As he stood in front of Kurwin, the ferret stared at the rodent and noticed that he could barely fit his tunic. His massive gut was right in Kurwin's face churning quietly. The rat did seem to have muscular legs and arms, but his clothing looked uncomfortable—and judging by how tattered it was, Kurwin figured that it would rip apart any day now, and the rodent would be fully bare. As much as Kurwin wanted to insult the rat, he couldn't ignore the giant spear in his paws, or his slobbery maw and seemingly sharp teeth. So the captain smiled and chose to act "chivalrous."

"Certainly not you, sah! Yore just very round, and quite proud of showin' everybeast that you eat lotsa vittles!"

The plump rat nodded. "Aye. Lotsa food good fer aye. Make aye big an' strong!"

"Indeed it does."

The rat looked closely at Kurwin's fur and blinked. Then he glanced over at all the other pirates and noticed something was off. "Why ferret an' other beasts here? You no Juska tribe. You no have marks!"

Kurwin looked closely at the rat and could see that he was covered in various black or blue tattoos. He had swirls along his face and neck, black zigzags going down his stomach, and if he stepped behind the rat, he would've spotted a few tattoos painted not far from his equally plump rump. Kurwin scratched his chin, knowing he could fool the rat if he played nice.

"We're friends of the Juskarord tribe! We came here to see how you all fared after winter, that's all. Me and my first mate here wanted ta see yore leader. Mind showin' us which tent he's in?"

The rat nodded again. "Foller me. I'll take ferret an' weasel to tent. But no other beasts! Other beasts no approach boss!"

Dirtfoot blinked. "So wot the 'ell are we s'posed to do?"

Trae glanced at the rat and smirked. "Mingle with the tribe. After all, they're gonna be our new allies from here on out."

Kurwin's crew watched as the ferret and weasel followed the heavyset rat over to one of the colorful tents. Having no other option, the crew members began to disperse around the area so they could get to know the Juskarord tribe a little more. A few of the corsairs went to observe the swordfight going on while others paid more attention to the Juska clan members practicing archery. Bloodbrain paid most attention to them, analyzing the bows they used, how sharp their arrows were, and how long it took them to fire. While some of the pirates were impressed with the clan members' skills, Bloodbrain kept quiet and folded his arms. He could've blurted out that he was far better than the archers, but there was no need. After all, Bloodbrain knew how quickly things could escalate, and he didn't feel like killing members of the tribe they were about to ally themselves with. The brown stoat with white blotches all over his body couldn't say the same. He wasn't watching the little archery contest; he was busy hovering around a chubby female ferret that was eating candied chestnuts out of a bag. The Juskarord members around her were either drunk or sleeping against a tree. After the ferret noticed the stoat hovering around her, she glanced at him and scowled.

"I ain't a fan of beasts gawkin' at my food. Shove off!"

The stoat just laughed innocently and wagged his tail, the tip of which had been dyed red. "Oh, this-this will only take a brief moment! What-what's in yore bag?"

"Bird droppings. Now go away!"

The stoat laughed again. "But they-they look more like candied chestnuts! Would the nice ferret give Sharkbait some?!"

"No, Jaleen will not give 'Sharkbait' any of her candied chestnuts."

"But-but Jaleen must understand! Sharkbait and his friends haven't had much food in a while! We're pretty hungry, so-so it couldn't hurt if Jaleen gave Sharkbait a few vittles." Sharkbait held up one finger and smiled innocently. "Just…just one?"

Jaleen huffed. "I know 'ow this is gonna go. Yore gonna ask fer one, and then another, and then suddenly, I don't have no more vittles to eat!"

A few corsairs were fully aware of Sharkbait's…condition and were slowly beginning to walk over to where the crazed stoat was. The kind stoat sighed heavily and chuckled again.

"Right…Sharkbait forgot! _Please_, won't you give Sharkbait some chestnuts?"

"_Please_, will you fuck off?"

Sharkbait's left eye twitched suddenly. Jaleen had a slight smirk on her face, almost looking like she got a kick out of insulting the stoat over and over again. But Sharkbait was not one who simply stood by and took whatever insult was thrown at him. Fed up with the rude ferret, Sharkbait pounced on her, knocking her flat on her back. She didn't even have time to squeal before the stoat had his right paw wrapped around her throat. Jaleen gasped and gagged as Sharkbait began to choke her to death, grinning wickedly as drool fell from his mouth. The other Juskarord members nearby saw what happened and started to take out their weapons. Islik and Slivik both sighed as they rushed towards them.

"Damn it, Sharkbait!" shouted Slivik.

Before a bloated fox could chop off Sharkbait's head, Slivik rushed forward and elbowed him in the nose, causing it to bleed. The other Juskarord member, a drunken slob who took way too much time to unsheathe his weapon, squealed when Islik took out his rapier and pressed the tip of it right on his groin.

"I'd stay still if I was you," he warned.

Slivik pinned the subdued Juskarord member down; the other clan members were busy sleeping, caring more about being well-rested instead of the commotion going on nearby. The two foxes watched as Sharkbait continued to choke Jaleen, squeezing harder and harder as Sharkbait watched Jaleen's eyes grow wide.

"Jaleen doesn't know, does she?! She doesn't know what 'appened to the last rude ferret that denied Sharkbait food! Sharkbait asked nicely! Sharkbait wasn't mean! But no! The fat little fucking ferret had to take advantage of Sharkbait!"

"Uh, Sharkbait? You _do_ know we're supposed to be _makin'_ friends, not chokin' 'em to death?" asked Islik.

Sharkbait ignored him. He lowered his head so his nose was touching Jaleen's. Spittle was getting all over the ferret's face as Sharkbait spoke.

"Does Jaleen wanna know what Sharkbait did? Huh? Does-does she wanna know?! Sharkbait will tell you!"

Jaleen grunted when Sharkbait grabbed her in-between her legs. The maniacal stoat laughed evilly as he started to grope her.

"Sharkbait took something from the mean little ferret _that you can't replace_. Oh yes…something _very_ precious and dear to her! And then Sharkbait cut her open and fished the food right from her fat little stomach and ate it!"

Eventually, Sharkbait got off of Jaleen. The chubby ferret took a deep breath and began to cough as she grasped her throat. Sharkbait stared at her as she sat up. He was still grinning and in a crouching position when he pulled his dirk out of his blue waistsash. The stoat licked the blade and giggled as he wagged his tail and pointed it at Jaleen.

"Let us try this again! Will Jaleen please give Sharkbait her vittles?"

Jaleen rubbed her neck and stared at Sharkbait and his sinister grin. After seeing him wave that blade around, let alone after being groped by the stoat, she quickly grabbed her bag of vittles and tossed them at Sharkbait. The stoat caught the bag and promptly put his dirk back in his waistsash.

"Oh, goody! Jaleen gave Sharkbait all of them!"

The ferret watched in horror as Sharkbait started to noisily gobble down the candied chestnuts while wagging his tail happily. Sharkbait was in the middle of swallowing two of them simultaneously when he blinked and looked at every other beast.

"Oh my, Sharkbait forgot to share! How silly of him! Would any other beast like some vittles?"

Islik and Slivik got off the two Juska clan members they were on and snickered.

"Sure, Sharkbait!" said Slivik.

"We'd love some!" said Islik.

Sharkbait turned and faced the Juska clan members instead. "What about you guys? Does Jaleen or the other fat ones want any?"

Jaleen saw Sharkbait's sinister grin again. He looked like he was baiting her to try and take one, just so he'd have a reason to bite her fingers off.

"No?"

"N-no…you have them…" she said quietly.

Sharkbait giggled and thumped his tail on the ground merrily. "Thank you!"

The Juska clan members that were still awake just stared at Sharkbait and the two fox brothers as they ate the chestnuts and snickered. Plaskin had seen what happened, at which point he just shook his head and sighed. To this day he still didn't understand Sharkbait; he probably never would. But at least he was smart enough to know he should never piss off the crazed stoat. The graying weasel walked away from the little incident and headed further into the woods, away from most of the commotion. He saw Razzik wander away from the campsite, but he never came back for one reason or another. After walking for a couple minutes, he found the rodent sitting down against a tree, deep in thought.

"How's it goin', Razzik?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm fine, Plaskin."

"Right, and Dirtfoot ain't got fungus growin' 'round his toes; we both know that just ain't true, mate. Don't yew wanna meet the rest of the tribe? Couple foxes are makin' Dead-Eye sniff random stuff blinded ta see if his nose is really as good as he says it is. So far he's guessed every scent right, even when they made 'im sniff one of their armpits."

"I don't see the appeal to watchin' a ferret sniff a fox's armpit."

"But yew find sittin' alone in the woods and starin' at the grass appealin'."

Razzik closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "I just wanna be alone right now…"

Fuck it, thought Plaskin. May as well give 'im the speech now. The old weasel sat down in the grass beside Razzik, pausing for a moment to see if the rat would finally open up about what he was upset about. When he didn't, the weasel spoke for him.

"Yew know I used ta lead a group of bandits back in the Northlands?"

Razzik shook his head. "Wot about it?"

"It was a small group, prob'ly just a score. Sometimes we'd rob nomads; sometimes we'd pick a fight with pygmy shrews or otters just to 'ave some excitement when we got bored. But one day…we were marchin' through the Northlands when we stumbled across this vast army of mercenaries. I think they were led by some ferret named Gyndo or somethin'. Anyways, they spotted us, attacked us, and took the sole survivor prisoner so they could torture 'im."

Razzik's eyes grew wide. "They captured you?"

Plaskin shook his head. "No. …They captured my brother."

"But you just said—"

"The 'sole' survivor was the only beast that _they_ saw left alive. While my friends were gettin' slaughtered, I was hidin' in a bush, shittin' my pants."

"…Oh."

Razzik turned and faced Plaskin when he started to smile and chuckle to himself. "Wot's so funny?"

"Yew wanna know why they didn't find me? 'Cos I was shittin' myself! The mercenaries were smart enough to look fer survivors. But they didn't look in the bush I was squattin' in 'cos it stank too much!"

"…That didn't humiliate you at all?"

Plaskin sniffled and stopped laughing. "Obviously it did. But in hindsight, it's pretty damn funny."

"So wot 'appened to yore brother?"

"He's dead."

Razzik was surprised at how nonchalant Plaskin was being. "You don't seem very upset about that."

Plaskin sighed heavily. "Razzik…when we were travelin', my brother and I told each other that if anythin' happens ta one of us, the other one has to keep livin'. The other one has ta move on. Hell, my brother told me to kill 'im myself if he was sufferin' too much from a disease or wound. So we agreed…an' then one day, some ferrets slaughtered my whole tribe."

There was a long pause. Both creatures were busy thinking about the situation, about how Razzik was no different from Plaskin. They were both cowards, and they knew it. Plaskin picked up a small rock and tossed it forward, trying very hard not to think about his late brother.

"I didn't see my brother die, but he got captured by those nasty ferrets; I already know wot they do to beasts like us. They asked him questions, tortured him…prob'ly raped 'im too. And then one day…I'm sure his body just gave up."

"…Wot d'you do afterwards?"

"Cleaned myself up. I had shit in my pants, 'member? And, y'know, all the cryin' started, I kept thinkin' it shoulda been me, kept callin' myself a coward, 'cos I was one. And yet…somehow I know that's wot my brother would've wanted."

"How can you say that? Y-you left yore brother to die!"

"Yeah. Because it was the smart thing ta do. There were over a hundred mercs; we were outnumbered. I would've been killed if I tried ta save 'im; that or captured and tortured, just like him. An' I know he didn't want that. At best he would've told me how stupid I was, knowin' I was walkin' to my death."

Razzik's voice started to crack. "But…you just left 'im…"

Plaskin looked down and sighed heavily. "I know wot I did," he said softly. "And 'cos of that…I'm still alive today."

Razzik looked away from Plaskin as he started to feel tears coming out his eyes. He tried as hard as he could to hold them back, but hearing Plaskin's story just made it much harder for Razzik to come to the realization of who, or rather, _what_ he was. Plaskin could hear Razzik sniffling and whimpering but didn't say anything offensive. However, he didn't reach over and hug him either.

"They outnumbered yew, didn't they? The so-called lizards?"

Razzik nodded slowly and sniffled. "Yes."

"They were more powerful'n yew, weren't they?"

"Yes."

"Yew didn't fight back real hard, did yew?"

Razzik couldn't even answer with words. He just shook his head.

"…Yew begged fer yer life, didn't ya?"

"Yes! W-wot's the point, Plaskin?!"

"My point is that yew did the right thing, Razzik. Yew wanted ta live, an' ya saw no other way out. So yew begged fer yer life while yer friends got slaughtered, an' they spared yew. There's nothin' wrong with that. If I had switched places with my brother, I _know_ he woulda left me behind too. And I would've been okay with that, 'cos it woulda meant he's still alive, still livin' his life, an' not locked away in some cell alongside me gettin' tortured ta death."

"Th…that—"

"Razzik, all yew need ta ask yerself is this: if yew know yew can't win a fight, if yew know chargin' into battle means death, if yew know that doin' somethin' dangerous will result in yew losin' a limb, or even yer life, and yew choose to back down 'cos yew want ta live, is bein' a coward really _that_ bad?"

Razzik didn't answer, because he knew Plaskin was right. He let fourteen corsairs die because he was too much of a coward to save them. And yet, there he was, still alive and well, and not dead like his friends. He knew that Plaskin was trying to make him feel better, but knowing that he was a coward just made him feel guiltier, because he knew that there were other cowards like him who were slain by those lizards that night.

"Why me? Why did they spare me? That's all I-I keep thinkin' about."

Plaskin shrugged. "Why not yew?"

Razzik whined as he continued to sob, the tears rolling down his face uncontrollably. Everytime he wiped them away, more started to stain his cheeks. He sniffled over and over again, trying to calm himself down. But no matter which way he put it, Plaskin was right: he was a coward. And the irony of the situation was that he was alive because of it, while his fellow corsairs were dead for being brave. Plaskin stood up and put a paw on Razzik's left shoulder, which was the closest thing to a hug he'd be getting.

"Yew stay here fer awhile. It may be okay ta be a coward, but yew know damn well wot'll happen if anybeast, 'specially Bloodeye or Dirtfoot, catches yew sobbin' and snifflin' like a babe. Prob'ly best if ya didn't show anybeast how upset yew are."

Razzik sniffled and nodded. "O-okay…okay…thank you."

"Yeah."

And just like that, Plaskin started to walk away. The weasel did genuinely care about Razzik and other beasts, but he had an odd way of showing it. Half the time he acted like he didn't care when he really did. And despite how casual the whole situation was to Plaskin, and how heart-wrenching it was to Razzik, the rat did feel like the weasel actually helped him. He just wished that the truth didn't hurt so much…

* * *

Traegar and Kurwin's view of Ferrin Rord wasn't exactly what they had hoped. His tent was filled with treasures and food, the lot of which neither corsair had seen for many seasons. Trae's mouth began to water at the delicious scent of so much food, but Kurwin just saw it all as a disappointment. Rord himself was a fat weasel who reeked of narcissism. It wasn't bad enough that he had all his flashy personal treasures stashed within his tent, but he also had to wear it around his body too. The pudgy weasel was wearing a suit of armor that was definitely too small for his massive frame, and he even had a colorful tabard covering it, complete with various different coat of arms designs. Ferrin knew that it was too small for him, but he didn't care. He just wanted to show everybeast how "rich" he was. The two corsairs stared at the weasel with dozens of black tribal marks painted all over his fur. Kurwin was tempted to go shake Rord's paw, but when he approached the weasel, he started to back away, scowling.

"And why is this…_filth_ standing in front of me?"

Trae sniffed and tried very hard not to reach for his dirk. Kurwin, somehow, managed to keep a casual grin on his face.

"Hehe, how cute. Surely you remember yer ole pal, Kurwin?"

Rord scoffed as he moved away from the table he was standing beside. Kurwin and Trae could see that Rord wasn't that much taller than a fully-grown shrew. The arrogant weasel tried to walk forward, but he wound up grimacing again and turning his head away.

"Phew! Surely I'd remember somebeast as foul-smelling as you two! Get out of my sight; you're stinkin' up my tent!"

Trae's eye twitched while Kurwin kept grinning. "Hmph…so yore tribe _has_ really changed! I didn't realize you became so _pathetic_."

Rord frowned when he heard the insult, which was immediately followed by deep snickering from behind. Rord's personal guard, a burly light brown stoat who looked like he could knock out Rord's teeth with one punch, had been standing idly by watching his leader insult the pirates. Ferrin growled and turned around, picking up a very crude-looking hammer.

"I'm sorry, d'you say somethin'?!"

"N-no, sah!"

"I think you have somethin' on yore mind! Please, by all means, tell me what it is!"

"It's, err, it-it were just a cough, sah!"

"GOOD! I do not need you embarrassin' me in front of guests!"

"Tch! Seems like yore more than capable of embarrassin' yoreself," Trae finally said.

Rord slammed his hammer down and jerked around, screeching, "SHUT YORE MOUTH!"

"Why? You afraid we'll bruise yore precious ego?"

"No! The stench of yore breath is nauseatin'! Now close yore mouths, or I'll do it for you!"

Trae was getting tired of this. He started to reach for his dirk. "Go on then. Close my mouth."

Kurwin exhaled. "I didn't expect things to become so heated so quickly. P'haps I should just get to the point."

"There is no point ta get to! I'm talkin' to two savage beasts who roll around in their own dung for all I know! What would either of you two know about—"

"D'you want more treasure, more food?" asked Kurwin.

The chubby weasel's ears twitched. "And what would you two…uncouth creatures know about treasure?"

Kurwin chuckled. "I know where ta find some. Nice, big haul that'll make you even richer'n you are now."

And just like that, the greedy weasel started grinning. "Well now…where can I find this treasure?"

"You expect me to tell ya, after all those colorful words you said ta me an' my first mate?"

"P'haps we should just leave, Cap'n," Trae suggested.

"No, no, no, no—I-I, hehehe, err, I-I apologize. Been a little frustrated, ya see," said Rord.

"Why?" asked Kurwin.

"Some squirrel—"

"My guests were _not_ talkin' to you, Fleckle! Do you see them talkin' to you?!"

"No, sah! I-I just thought—"

"You don't think, Mard! I don't reward you with food for simply thinking—you protect me, and nothing else!"

"I-I just—"

"SHUT UP, FLECKLE!"

The tent suddenly went quiet. Fleckle awkwardly scratched his cheek before he looked down at the ground. Ferrin Rord exhaled as he walked over to one of his sacks and pulled out a bottle of wine. Trae noticed the vibrant color of the fluids and blinked.

"Is that—"

"Raspberry wine? Hehehe, yes, it is!" said Rord, as he opened up the bottle.

The two pirates watched as the fat weasel started to chug a substantial amount of sweet wine. Traegar growled without opening his mouth, upset that so much wine was being wasted on such a pompous animal. Ferrin sighed after downing a lot of wine and resumed talking.

"There's a squirrel…guy who used to be a Redwall champion. Name's Merle Lyfil, heard of him?"

"Couple times, yah. Heard he took out twenty Juska tribe members all by himself," said Trae.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway," Rord stopped so he could drink more wine and then continued, "Merle's been harassin' my tribe for a week! At first he were just an annoyin' fly, but he's a hawk now! Giant fowl preyin' on my tribe one by one! One of these days, he's gonna find my tribe's location, gonna steal all my riches for himself!"

"And you want us to take care of him for you," Trae concluded.

"I WANT HIS HEAD! I want you two to bring his rotting skull to me so I can place it on my spear!"

Kurwin chuckled and nodded. "Fair enough. We'll get on that very soon."

Rord chuckled and licked his lips. "And-and…after you do this, you tell me about the treasure, yeah?"

"Let's just say we'll be…partners. Together, the two of us will scour this whole forest an' drain it of all the food an' treasures we can find! Sound good?"

Rord laughed and nodded. "Yes, yes, that sounds _very_ good!"

"Then it's settled! We'll return with the head shortly."

Fleckle and Ferrin watched as the two pirates walked out of the tent. Rord chugged more of his wine before he chuckled again and tossed the bottle at Fleckle's head, causing him to shout.

"Ya see? Now _that_ is a beast who knows how to negotiate! Maybe you can learn a few things from him!"

Fleckle, being the obedient servant he was, nodded and agreed with him. "Yes, sah."

Back outside, Traegar was panting heavily and Kurwin was scowling over what just happened. The weasel grabbed his captain by the shoulder and turned him around so they could chat.

"You seriouslyare not considerin' allyin' yoreself with that fat fuckin' hunk of flesh that thinks it's a vermin, are you?"

Kurwin smirked. "Course not!"

Trae huffed. "Good. I'll get Bloodbrain to kill—"

"No, no…we can't do that. It's the rules of the Juska. Whoever slays the current Juska leader becomes the leader himself. 'Member all them stories about the Juskazann clan?"

"What, that tribe that was run by some piece-of-shit stoat who couldn't even piss without his mum tellin' him to? Yeah, I remember."

"Exactly. Gruven Zann slew Sawney Rath—I dunno how, but that's wot legends say—and became the new Juska leader. Chances are, whoever slews Ferrin will go through the same initiation as him."

"So what do we do?"

"D'you see that tall stoat Rord kept insultin'?"

"What about him?"

Kurwin grinned. "I'm sure with a bit of…convincin', I can get him to kill Rord for us."

Trae chuckled. "Killed by his own personal guard…sounds perfect."

"As fer this squirrel…take a team with you and see if you can get rid of him too."

"But it won't matter if we're gonna—"

"The last thing we need is to have some vigilante squirrel comin' back in the future to bite us in the arse. May as well kill 'im now while we're here."

"All right then."

"I'll stay here, see how Fleckle _really_ feels about the 'glorious' Ferrin Rord."

* * *

Danik was still hungry. The vermin weren't crowding over the sacks of food now. His parents were busy talking to each other privately near a set of trees. His older brother wasn't back yet. The young rodent glanced over at a sack filled with cheeses and slowly got off the log he sat on. He quietly crept his way towards the cheeses, trying his best not to step on any fragile kindling. He didn't, and he managed to reach the sack without alerting any of the other vermin. Danik snickered to himself as he stuck his paws into the bag and fished out two very large wedges of cheese. The young rodent started to stuff his face, chewing noisily and smacking as drool formed in his maw. He savored the smooth, soft, creamy cheese, the flavor titillating his taste buds. He stuck his nose into the sack and sniffed twice, the delectable scent of so many different cheeses filling his lungs. Danik couldn't help himself. He stuck his entire head into the sack and started to wolf down the nourishment, the greedy rogue not considering that there were other beasts that needed to eat. But that came back to bite him in the rear when an aggressive rodent with a torn tail walked over and pulled him out the sack.

"HEY! That food's fer alla us, not jus' yew!"

Danik merely burped as a response. The bigger rat looked inside the bag and growled when he noticed that over half the cheese was gone.

"Yew ate _all_ that fuckin' cheese?!"

Danik laughed nervously. "Hehe…sorry!"

The older rat was not amused. He growled again and started to lift the long stick he was carrying. He had babes of his own and didn't want to spank them with his cutlass, so he used a very crude and blunt stick instead to whack it against their bottoms. Danik shouted and began to crawl backwards as the old rat prepared to whip him with the stick. Then the old rat grunted, and Danik's eyes grew wide. The old rat blinked and felt his stick becoming heavy. It slowly fell from his fingers and landed on the ground. The rodent grunted again and blinked as his chest suddenly felt wet. And then his baggy pantaloons became wet around the crotch as the rat's bladder abruptly emptied. Danik kept shivering, unsure if the rat's brain even knew that an arrow was protruding from his chest. The old rat tried to grope the arrow, but he suddenly fell to his knees. And then he groaned as he landed face first in the dirt and died right in front of Danik. The poor babe didn't even have time to scream before the hares attacked.

It was so peaceful just a moment ago. But now vermin were being slaughtered mercilessly, their lives cut short by hundreds and hundreds of hares, all of whom were led by a great badger clad in blue armor. Urthquake's squad was smart. They spent all this time spying on them, not even screaming "EULALIAAAAA!" since they knew that would scare them off. They surprised them when they were waking up and having a nice meal, catching them all off-guard. A lot of the vermin chose to fight instead of run, unaware of just how many hares were in the area. A female stoat got into a brief swordfight with Becker, but it was cut short after the chubby hare ran his sabre through her. A burly ferret tried to squeeze the life out of Qwuintuff by picking him up and trying to crush his ribs with his arms, but the captain just grinned and took out his dagger, which he used to stab the ferret in the head repeatedly with. Urthquake himself wasn't even trying. He was walking along the ground casually, his broadsword in paw instead of his axe. Any vermin who came near him was beheaded or bifurcated by his massive blade. It didn't take long before the vermin realized that getting close to Urthquake meant certain death.

Calling the encounter a battle would've been an overstatement. At best it was just a warm-up for Urthquake and his hares. The bloodbath happened too fast for anybeast to react; the tribe didn't have any trackers or spotters. They weren't looking out for any hostile enemies, and even if they were, they didn't expect an entire platoon of hares to find them, let alone a Badger Lord. The vermin were wiped out in less than three minutes. No beast managed to flee from the hares, and very few beasts were still alive. The one stoat that was lying on the ground grasping his stomach wound was trying to crawl away to safety when a hare kicked his body over. The bleeding stoat held up his paws, whimpering and hoping the hare would show mercy, but the long-eared beast blinked before thrusting his rapier into his throat. Danik was still alive as well, although he was busy vomiting all over the ground. All the cheese he just consumed was spewing out of his mouth, splashing all over his footpaws and creating a disgusting puddle. Just the sight of what used to be delectable vittles was enough to make the unfortunate rodent puke even more.

"We get 'em all?" asked Elonv.

Frenquil took her throwing knives out of a dead rat's head and snickered. "Pretty sure. Most of 'em didn't even seem like they were tryin'!"

Danik started to shudder and whimper as he began to wander around the area, the hares seemingly ignoring his presence. Tears started to run down his face as he started to look for his parents amongst the crowd of hares and the vermin corpses.

"Mum?!"

No answer. Danik just wailed, already knowing that she was probably dead. But he kept living in disbelief.

"MUM!"

Still nothing. He started to run, shoving some of the hares out the way until he came across a young hare with dark brown fur. He was busy grunting as he tried to pull his knives out of a corpse.

"Damn it, this is the fourth time this has happened!"

Some of the hares around him were laughing while the hare continued to yank on the knives, hoping to remove them from the corpse's skull.

"Maybe that's why you should only use them knives for throwin', Tike, not stabbin', wot!"

Danik froze. The hare was standing over his mother's corpse. Tike heard a very pitiful whine and glanced over at Danik. He stopped moving and frowned. Danik looked like his soul just left his body, like there was nothing left in him. His mother was dead, and his father's body wasn't too far away. All he had now was his brother, and he wasn't even there to protect him.

"Shit…" muttered Tike.

The tear-faced rat slowly began to walk towards his mother's body, not sure what to do. And then he grunted when Morson walked behind him and kicked him down.

"Oh dear, was that a beast you cared for? Sorry 'bout that mate! Shit happens, wot!"

Some of the hares laughed at Morson while others scowled at him. Danik suddenly gritted his teeth and snarled. He snatched a dagger off the ground and shouted as he thrust forward. Morson, luckily, had turned around and wasn't facing the young rat. If he had been, he would've been stabbed in the groin. Instead, the blade was thrust into his rump, and not very far from his hole. Morson shouted with pain and irritation after being stabbed in the behind. He quickly jerked himself around just as the rodent was about to stab him again. Using his swift reflexes, he used his sabre to swipe at Danik's paw, lacerating it and causing him to drop the dagger. Then he grabbed the rat with his bare paws and lifted him up as he pinned him to a tree.

"You ungrateful little shit!"

Danik kept thrashing around and tried to fight off Morson, swearing, snarling and sobbing all at the same time. The hares and Urthquake could see what was going on and rushed over to intervene.

"Wot the hell did ya do now, Morson?" asked Saron.

"I got stabbed in the arse, that's wot happened!" Morson snarled.

Becker noticed the wound on the lieutenant's lower backside and couldn't help but snicker. "Quite a shame, lieutenant! Lettin' an innocent li'l babe like him catch you off-guard!"

"YOU-YOU KILLED MY MUM! YOU KILLED HER!" Danik suddenly cried out.

"Shut up! You better be lucky we didn't kill you too!"

"Jus' drop 'im and be done with, wot! We've already accomplished wot we set out to do!" said Stanno.

"Kill…I'm…gonna kill alla yew," Danik suddenly said calmly through his sniffles.

The rat suddenly blinked and stared at Morson and his smug grin. "Wot…wot's yore name?"

Morson scoffed. "Morson Langrove. Why?"

Danik put on a face that, even for a rat as young as him, managed to creep out Morson. He didn't know if the rodent was grinning at him or scowling; it looked like a combination of both. He took a few deep breaths before he finally spoke again.

"So I can _find yew_."

Morson froze for a moment, gradually realizing what the small rat was talking about. The hare grinned and started to chuckle. "Wot, you think you're gonna grow old, hunt me down an' find me when I'm a bitter ole hare too weak to even pick up a sword? Is that wot you're gonna do: get revenge for your dear ole mum since you're too weak to do it right now, wot?"

Morson covered the rodent's mouth with his paws and growled very quietly as he got close to the rat's face.

"I don't think so," he said very sinisterly.

And then Danik squealed a split second before Morson broke his neck. A couple hares grimaced at the sound and turned away, while other hares like Becker and Honward stared at Morson with disgust. The lieutenant scoffed as he let go of Danik and watched his body crumple onto the ground in front of his footpaws.

"Why the fuck did you do that?!" asked Stanno.

"So I could kill him."

"He was just a babe, Morson," said Saron.

"So wot?! He just threatened me; he stabbed me very close to my fuckin' hole!"

"So that makes it okay to break his neck? You coulda just let him go, lieutenant," Honward pointed out.

"Fuck you, Hon! You had no problem cleavin' that ferret's head in two over there, wot! And don't you say a damn thing, Tike! You're the one who slew his mother, not me!"

"Don't put this on me; that's different! She-she came at me; I killed her in self-defense! You shoved that babe against a tree an' he had no weapon in his paws at all!"

"He's got a point, Morson. Killin' a defenseless rat his age was just wrong. The least you coulda done was put a knife in his paws and give 'im a chance to fight back," said Frenquil.

"Are you—"

The hares all either ducked or shouted when a giant axe flew through the air. It landed inside the bark of a tree with a hard thwack, not very far from Morson's right ear. The hare was crouching down, his legs shaking after nearly losing his ear. Urthquake started to walk forward slowly, causing faint tremors in the ground with each massive footstep he took. He nonchalantly grabbed his axe and removed it from the tree with little difficulty, then turned around and started to address all the hares around him.

"It seems to me that you've all forgotten that I have ears," he said, his voice deep and strong. "I know what you're all saying, more importantly, I know what you're constantly bickering about. So Morson slew a defenseless babe. Yes, it was wrong and cowardly of him to do. But not because he killed a beast that was so young. It was because the beast in question had no way to fight back or defend himself."

"But-but, Lord Urthquake! He—"

Urthquake turned around and looked down at Morson. "Tell me something: if I were to slam you against this tree when you had no weapon in paw, and I choked you to death, would that be fair?"

"N…no, Lord Urthquake," he said, ears drooping.

"Exactly my point. So the next time you have to kill a babe after we just killed his or her parents, you make sure you give that poor beast a fighting chance."

"But he didn't _have_ a fightin' chance, Lord! He was a babe!" Stanno complained.

Urthquake blinked as he looked at Stanno. "You'd be surprised what babes can do with a weapon in their paws. And even if that were the case, well, this was a rat Morson killed. I'm certainly not going to shed any tears over his death. Are you?"

Stanno huffed. "No, but—"

"Then why are all you hares making such a fuss over this rat's age? He's dead now, so get past it."

"…Fine," Stanno mumbled.

No other beast said anything. When the Badger Lord put his footpaw down, it stayed down, and there wasn't any force in the world that could move it. A few hares kept looking at Morson with disgust or Urthquake with surprise, but the beasts never got around to speaking up. After all, the cynical badger was right. So what if Morson killed some random rat who lost his mother? Why should they care?

"Now then, it's time that we go find Log-a-Log and inform him that his little problem's been taken care of. I'm sure he has more vital information to tell us…and I'm sure that the Guosim have plenty of food they're willing to share with us."

Some of the hares completely forgot about what Morson just did once the badger mentioned food. As if like magic, Becker's plump belly started to grumble.

"I must say, I'm quite famished after all that fightin', wot! Nice spot of vittles should perk us up."

"Maybe that's why we're all edgy right now. We haven't had a proper meal in awhile," said Elonv.

More hares started to agree with the blue-armored badger, causing him to smirk slightly. "And since these are the same vermin who stole food from the Guosim, I'm sure they won't mind if we purloined what wasn't theirs to begin with. Take all the sacks of food you can find and then follow me! With any luck, we'll find Log-a-Log sooner than later!"

"Yes, Lord Urthquake!" shouted out several hares.

The badger started to walk away from the grisly scene, watching as the hares collected any supplies they could find. Some of the hares were still shocked over what Morson had done, but as they watched various other hares casual walk past Danik's body, let alone all the other mutilated corpses, the same hares really did begin to wonder if they were having a fit over nothing. Tike, however, didn't feel like keeping quiet and approached Morson, who was wincing and checking to make sure his tail was still intact.

"So that's wot hares like you do, huh? Slaughter innocent babes an' then just forget about it, go fetch some grub?"

"Y'know wot? You joined us willingly! You knew wot it'd be like! Anytime you wanna leave the Long Patrol 'cos you're so high and mighty and 'cos you 'ave so many damn standards, feel free ta go! Door's wide open, Tike!"

The hare just stood there, scowling at Morson and blinking. The lieutenant smirked and scoffed, knowing that Tike wouldn't leave after spending so much time trying to join the Long Patrol.

"S'wot I thought. You're not better'n me, so stop actin' like it. Sooner or later, you an' all the other hares like you need ta wake the fuck up and figure out wot it means to be a part of the Long Patrol, wot!"

Tike grunted when Morson walked past him and intentionally bumped into his shoulder. The young corporal sighed heavily and shut his eyes, gradually coming to the realization of what hares like Morson were really capable of.

"Sure hope it doesn't mean turnin' into arseholes like you," he said quietly.

* * *

It took him a while, but he did it. Tegast finally had enough fish to feed his family, and maybe even a few other beasts. The rat fished far away from camp, hoping to get some peace and quiet for a few moments. He actually spent a lot of time just sitting and looking at the water, trying to comprehend what his father told him, what the tribe was currently doing. He didn't understand why his family kept moving around. He didn't understand why he couldn't befriend beasts that weren't vermin like him. He wanted to know more about the woodlanders, find out why vermin hated them so much. Voles were woodlanders, yet two members of the tribe were bankvoles, both of whom weren't hated by anybeast. Maybe his father was narrow-minded, but Tegast figured his mother could shed some light on the situation. After thinking for some time, the rat caught some fish with his spear and headed back to camp. But as he got closer and closer to the tribe, he noticed that nobeast was talking or laughing, or even eating. The whole place was quiet. Then Tegast saw some beasts lying face down in the dirt, their bodies covered in red fluids.

And then Tegast shouted when he nearly tripped over a severed head. The rat dropped his supply of fish in shock as he stared at the head, the eyes half-closed. The rodent started to panic and ran towards the camp.

"Mum?! Dad?!"

Tegast started to whimper when he ran around the campsite and found even more bodies and discarded weapons. The adolescent rat forced himself not to cry, since it was possible that his parents and little brother were still alive and well. But the rat's hopes were shattered when he stumbled across two corpses lying beside a tree. He didn't know what to do but stare. His mother was lying on the ground, dead after being stabbed in the head and torso. His father had nearly been sliced in half by Urthquake's broadsword, and his entrails were spread all over the ground. Tegast stepped forward and started to breathe heavily, letting out a quiet whimper as he kept looking at his parents' corpses. His vision became blurred as his eyes filled with tears. The young rat sobbed and started to shake, hoping that this was all a horrible nightmare. But it wasn't. The adolescent rat slowly fell to his knees and shut his eyes. He opened his mouth and started blubbering and wailing uncontrollably, his entire body shaking. It wasn't just that his parents were killed, but it was the fact that everybeast had been slain so savagely. He didn't even know who was to blame. As Tegast wept, he slowly opened his eyes and came to the realization that his younger brother wasn't there.

"Danik?! DANIK!" he wailed.

The rat slowly stood up and looked all around through his watery eyes, sniffling and shuddering as he tried to wipe his eyes. Then he glanced over at a tree and saw a body lying on the ground too small to be an adult's corpse.

"No…"

Tegast got on the ground and whimpered as he got closer to the corpse.

"No, no…please, don't…"

The young rat crawled over to his brother's body and got a closer look at it. He only had a wound on his right paw, but when Tegast actually lifted the body and watched the head tilt at an awkward angle, he could tell that the neck had been broken. Tegast sat down and whined as he held Danik's body.

"Don't…don't do this to me, please! Just…open yore eyes, Danik. Please…just…"

Tegast couldn't accept what was happening. He even started to open Danik's eyes for him, hoping he'd respond in some way. But he didn't, and Tegast finally came to the realization that he never would. The young rat shut his eyes and released more tears as he cradled his dead brother. He kept muttering to himself and sniffling, occasionally letting out pitiful noises that suggested a large portion of Tegast just died. It all happened so fast, so suddenly. His whole family, let alone the whole tribe he traveled with, was dead. And the entire time, Tegast had been busy staring at water and fishing. The rat even heard a commotion going on in the distance, but he chose to ignore it. He knew he probably should've hurried back, but he just thought some of the tribe members were fighting again. But he didn't, and now he was holding his brother's cadaver, blaming himself for not being there when it happened. Tegast didn't move for well over two minutes. His cries became quieter, and Tegast could finally hear more clearly. Somebeast in the distance was coughing. Somebeast was alive. The young rat gasped and put his brother's body down so he could hurry over to the beast in pain.

"Hello?! Is somebeast still alive?!"

"Tegast…"

The rat jerked his head beside a bush and saw a bankvole lying on his back with three arrows stuck in his abdomen. Tegast sprinted over to him and got on his knees, panting as he looked down at the dying bankvole.

"Wot happened?!"

The bankvole grunted. "Hares…the hares ambushed us…"

"But where are the others? Didn't they take prisoners?"

"No…jus' hares everywhere…giant stripedog…"

"…A badger?"

The bankvole blinked and started to close his eyes. "Blue…blue armor…hares everywhere…"

And then the bankvole sighed and stopped talking. Tegast stared at him for a brief moment before he whimpered. "Wot…wot else?! Where are they?! Wot…"

The rat could see that the bankvole was dead now. He stared at the body with wide eyes, unable to do or say anything. Then the frightened rat let out a quiet whimper and sat down, shuddering. He looked all around, hoping that somebeast would find him or tell him what to do now. But nobeast was there. He was all alone. Tegast blinked and sat still for a while, in a state of shock. The gray rodent didn't know what he was feeling—anger, regret, sorrow, even envy at some point. Why was _he_ still alive? Why did his whole family and the whole tribe have to die and leave him all by his lonesome? Why couldn't he have died too? At least he would've been in the Dark Forest with his family. Tegast eventually stood up slowly and began to look around the ground. He slowly dragged his footpaws along the blood-stained dirt and found an ordinary cutlass. The young rat bent down and picked it up, shortly before reaching over and pulling a sling out of a dead ferret's paw. He wasn't crying out loud anymore, although the rat did sniffle occasionally and a tear or two would run down his face. Tegast looked at all the pawprints in the ground and blinked.

He could follow the hares and the badger; find the beasts who killed his family and take revenge. But Tegast didn't know where to look. He wasn't a good tracker, and judging by all the pawprints, clearly there were at least threescore hares allied with the badger, and Tegast was just taking a guess. He had no idea that the hares numbered well past the hundreds. He turned around in a full circle, thinking some sign would appear and point him in the right direction. But it didn't. Tegast walked over to his family's corpses and stared. He thought about giving them a proper burial, but just being around their bodies was too upsetting for Tegast. Even now the rat was forcing himself not to cry again. The rodent turned away from their bodies and let out a shaky breath. All he could do was move forward. Maybe he'd run into the beasts who slaughtered the whole tribe. Maybe not. Maybe he'd find a new family or tribe to join. Maybe not. But the one thing his father constantly told him was to never give up, even when "the world kept throwing shit in his face." So the distraught rat looked ahead at all the bushes, trees, and other lush scenery in the area and sighed again.

And then he started to walk.


	4. Dead Eyes

**IV**

**Dead Eyes**

The group of Juskarord clan members was getting more and more irritated over the ferret's impressive nose. No matter what they made the creature sniff, he always seemed to identify the object, despite how disgusting or crude it seemed. Dead-Eye was grinning smugly as he had a second eye patch covering his right eye, thereby blinding him completely. He wiggled his wet nose and snickered, waiting for the clan members to continue with their little game.

"Ya wanna stop now 'afore yew lose all yer food?"

"No! There ain't no way yer nose can be that powerful!"

Dead-Eye shrugged. "Try me!"

The clan member, a fox whose face was littered with black tribal markings, gestured for a thin dark brown stoat to pull another food item out of a sack. Dead-Eye wiggled his nose shortly after it exited the sack and chuckled.

"That's wild ramson! C'mon, gimme somethin' hard!"

The fox huffed and rubbed his forehead. "Give 'em the ramson."

"Argyle, at the rate we're goin', we won't 'ave any food left."

"Shaddap, Jarron! Trust me; he'll guess wrong an' we'll end up gettin' all the food back!"

The stoat tossed the ramson over to Blowhorn, who started to tear away at the pungent vegetable with his teeth. Members of Kurwin's crew were still snacking on all the vittles that Dead-Eye had won for them during this tournament, whilst a half-dozen Juskarord tribe members were staring at Argyle with contempt, wondering when the fox would call it quits so he wouldn't gamble all their food away. The blinded ferret was still grinning while Argyle fished through another sack and took out several slices of cheese.

"Fine. Wot's this then?"

Argyle held the cheese near Dead-Eye's nose and watched as he sniffed twice. "Cheese."

"Wot kind of cheese?"

"Err…it's that light yellow cheese made with goatsmilk, aye? An' somebeast stuffed some kind of nuts into it!"

Argyle growled. "Wot _kind_ of nuts?"

Dead-Eye sniffed the cheese again. "Walnuts."

Jarron and the other tribe members exhaled and rolled their eyes while Kurwin's crew members shouted with joy and cheered at Dead-Eye. The reddish-brown fox scowled as he stared at the ferret before Longfang held out his paws.

"I'll take that."

The vulpine shoved the cheese in Longfang's paws, and the rat greedily started to gobble down two slices. Meanwhile, Argyle dug into another sack and pulled out some kind of bottle filled with purplish-black fluids. The moment the fox took off the cork, Dead-Eye's nose wiggled and he snickered.

"Blackberry wine!"

"FUCK!"

The fox furiously tossed the bottle at Kurwin's corsairs, but Ishlin caught it before it bounced off a pirate's skull. The burly stoat took the bottle and shoved it into his mouth. He tilted his head back and started to gulp down the fruity beverage in huge quantities, causing some of the corsairs to frown.

"Hey, don't hog it all, Ishlin!"

"Yew ain't the only one who spent all this time drinkin' nuttin' but grog!"

The giant stoat removed the bottle from his mouth and belched. He tossed the bottle on the ground in the middle of the crowd and watched as three different corsairs argued and fought over trying to get the same bottle. The Juskarord members all stared at Dead-Eye with contempt, upset that he had such a powerful nose.

"Anythin' else?" the ferret challenged.

"Fine! Hehe, you ain't gonna like the smell of this though!"

The fox pulled out another bottle of strange fluids before grinning wickedly. He held the bottle up to Dead-Eye's head but didn't remove the cork just yet. It wasn't until his nose was practically touching the bottle that Argyle ripped off the cork with a faint pop. Dead-Eye only sniffed once before he recoiled and groaned with disgust.

"Yurk! Wot is that, stale fish 'ead grog?! Smells like this were brewed when Raga Bol were still alive!"

Argyle's left eye twitched. The Juskarord tribe members either swore or sat down in frustration with their arms folded. Dead-Eye noticed there was a very long pause.

"It was, weren't it?"

The vulpine shoved the bottle in Dead-Eye's paws, causing everybeast watching the spectacle to cheer. The ferret removed the eye patch covering his right eye and snickered as he looked at the disgusting fluids. A majority of the vermin around Dead-Eye playfully punched him in the shoulder or ruffled the fur on his head, glad that he won all this delicious food from the Juskarord tribe.

"Great job, buddy!" said Longfang.

"Hah, never woulda guessed it were walnuts in that cheese!" said Slipfoot.

"How'd you know when that grog was made?"

Dead-Eye shrugged. "Special talent of mine mates!"

As bad as the grog smelled, it _was_ grog. Dead-Eye looked at the nasty fluids in the bottle before he opened his mouth and started to guzzle down some of the bitter, but still somewhat spicy fluids. The ferret hacked after drinking a substantial amount of the fluids and shook his head, the flavor burning his throat and leaving a rotten taste in his mouth. He looked over at the frowning Argyle and all the other Juskarord members and smirked.

"No need ta be so down! Yew lost fair an' square! Yew wanted ta see how strong me nose is, an' now ya know!"

"Pfft! Big fuckin' deal—so you can sniff out food and grog! Not like that's any use when yore surrounded by a buncha squirrels or otters!"

"Oh, but it _is_! Hehe, part of the reason I'm still livin' today!"

"Bollocks. Prove it then," said Jarron.

The one-eyed ferret sighed heavily as he started to grin to himself. "Awright. Couple seasons ago—'round autumn I think—I got lost, found meself wanderin' through the dark woods all by me lonesome! An' to top all that off, some otters were out lookin' fer me. So there I was: pitch black, middle of the night, already can't see too good with only one eye. Had no weapons on me 'cept fer a measly li'l blade!"

"So wot, you used yer nose ta run away from the otters' scent?"

Dead-Eye quaffed a substantial amount of the stale grog and hacked again as more fluids burned his throat. "Nope! I went right towards 'em! Hehe, didn't 'ave much light, so all I could do was sniff out the otters 'afore they found me! Li'l game o' cat 'n' mouse, killed 'em 'afore they found me! But there were this one otter I ran into…"

"Wot d'you do?"

This was the part of the story Dead-Eye enjoyed telling. "She were this young otter—not sure 'ow old she were—and she had no idea I was there! I crept behind her, ready to slice that pretty li'l neck a' hers. But them otters…hehehe, they're always just so wet…"

Now more of the Juskarord clan members were interested in the story. All of them sat down and a few of them started to grin. Argyle growled as he nodded at Dead-Eye.

"Keep goin'."

Dead-Eye took his time. He drank more grog, not caring how much it burned his gullet at this point. He rubbed off some of the fluids dripping from his mouth before he licked his lips.

"I didn't kill her. Pinned her down from behind instead. If it weren't fer me nose, I never woulda known how wet she were. Any a' yew ever smelled an otter's cunt?"

All the Juskarord members shook their heads, prompting Dead-Eye to laugh.

"Shame. I dunno wot this otter was doin' 'afore she and her crew started lookin' fer me, but I'm sure as hell ain't complainin'!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah—just get to the good part! Yew force yerself into her or wot?"

Dead-Eye licked his lips again. "That's just it…when I started gropin' her skin and rubbin' up against her…I didn't have _time_ ta force meself into her. I just pinned her down an' kept rubbin' me shaft all over her skin, y'know, jammed a few fingers up her arse an' cunt. And then I came all over her face."

Some of the corsairs standing beside Dead-Eye noticed that a few Juskarord members were licking their lips or grabbing themselves. Even Argyle, who was previously pissed off at the ferret for taking all his food was grinning at him with satisfaction.

"An' then wot happened?"

Dead-Eye shrugged. "I jus' left. Couldn't slay a pretty thing like her. 'Sides, no point in markin' somethin' if yer jus' gonna destroy it afterwards."

"…P'haps I should keep that nose a' yours close by. Maybe yew can use it to sniff out a few otters fer us to have fun with."

"Maybe I'll do that," said Dead-Eye as he began to stand. "Fer now, we got some delicious vittles ta shove down our throats!"

Dead-Eye and the rest of the corsairs sitting around the Juskarord clan members all stood up with their vittles and walked away. Unfortunately, Longfang and Dead-Eye didn't get very far before Traegar rushed towards them with a few other pirates backing him up.

"I see yore not havin' trouble makin' friends," said the weasel.

While Dead-Eye started to finish off the grog, Longfang just laughed and shoveled the last wedge of cheese into his mouth. "He just got through tellin' everybeast 'bout his little incident with those otters, 'member?"

Trae giggled. "Course I do! But you can tell 'em more stories later. We need you and Dead-Eye ta come with us into the forest."

"Wot for?"

"The sorry excuse of a weasel runnin' this tribe needs us ta kill some legendary squirrel pickin' off his tribe members," said Dirtfoot.

Dead-Eye finished his fish head grog and gulped hard as he tossed the bottle aside. "Fine then. Jus' show us which way ta go an' we'll sniff 'im out!"

* * *

The tall, thick-headed stoat exhaled after drinking all the fresh elderberry wine his leader had rewarded him with. It wasn't all that much, but considering that he rarely had the pleasure of drinking wine, the stoat didn't complain. He set his chalice down on the ground before he stood up and walked over to a tree with fungi growing around the roots. Knowing he needed to get back to his post soon, the stoat figured it was better to go now instead of holding it all in. So the muscular stoat lowered his trousers slightly and sighed as he began to urinate on the tree. The stoat was staring at the yellow fluids splashing against the ground and tree bark when a ferret with a heavily scarred face snuck up on him and greeted him.

"How's it goin', Fleckle?"

The stoat nearly jumped and gasped. He jerked his head around and saw Kurwin standing behind him, staring at him nonchalantly.

"Wot is it? I'm a little busy here!"

Kurwin ignored him. "Ya know, there's two things a good leader should _never_ do: let his paw get bittin' by the beast he's feedin', and abuse the beast that's feedin' from his paw. They're two simple rules, yet I hardly ever see anybeast follow 'em. Why d'you think that is?"

The stoat just blinked. "Erm, I'm not sure I foller ya."

"It's simpler to understand than you think. If I'm nice ta you, then by default, you should be nice to me. But if you fuck with me, well…you might find a blade shoved 'tween yer eyes. Get my point?"

Fleckle growled. "I'll have you know that I—"

Kurwin held up his paws. "This isn't a threat I'm makin' to you, Fleckle. Rather, it's a proposition."

The stoat finished urinating on the tree and pulled his trousers back up. He turned around and faced Kurwin, still feeling a bit confused.

"A prop…wot?"

Kurwin digressed. "Ferrin Rord. Is he a good leader?"

Fleckle nodded his head eagerly. "Yes, course he is! The best leader a Juska clan could ever ask for!"

"Then why is he abusin' the beasts he's feedin'?"

Fleckle scratched his head, confused again. "Not sure wot you mean."

Kurwin huffed. "Why isn't Ferrin treatin' you right? You've done everythin' he asks; you've been a loyal and trustworthy guard fer him, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"And yet he calls you names, he abuses you, embarrasses you—and in front of guests, no less! Wot kinda leader is that?!"

Fleckle looked down at his footpaws as he shyly kicked a small pebble. "Well…Ferrin's just a li'l stressed is all. I-I know he don't always mean it."

"Sure he don't. Has Ferrin ever, well…done _things_ to you, Fleckle? Very _unpleasant_ things?"

Fleckle looked at Kurwin and scowled. "Wot the fuck are you sayin'?"

Kurwin grinned nastily as he approached Fleckle. "Nothin'. Just askin'. I mean, a stoat as big and strong as you can fend fer yerself."

Fleckle yelped when Kurwin reached forward and grabbed his groin. And then he squeezed hard. Fleckle just stared at Kurwin and nearly blushed. But when Kurwin raised his other paw and started to stick it down Fleckle's trousers, the muscular stoat snarled and grabbed Kurwin's right arm. The ferret shouted as Fleckle squeezed so hard that he nearly broke his wrist. The massive stoat lifted Kurwin right off the ground before snorting in his face.

"DO NOT. TOUCH. ME."

Kurwin chuckled evilly. "That wot Ferrin does to you?"

"NO!"

"Only a matter of time ya know. Yer his little whippin' beast. You let him insult you, belittle you, abuse you—and fer wot? To protect some fat, pompous creature who brings shame to beasts like you and me? He's usin' you, Fleckle, and you can't even realize it."

"Shut up!"

"He's gonna ask you ta get naked. An' then he's gonna ask you ta bend over. And yer gonna do it willingly, 'cos yer so 'loyal' to him. And then he's gonna fuck that arse of yers 'til his fat cock's sore. _And he's gonna make you enjoy it_."

Kurwin leaned forward so his nose was practically touching Fleckle's. "Is _that_ wot you want?"

Fleckle loosened his grip on Kurwin's arm and eventually let him go. The ferret grunted as he landed on the ground. He rubbed his right wrist with his left paw before looking back up at the stoat.

"So how long will it be 'til you start bendin' over and takin' it up the arse? Next season? Next month? Next week?"

"_Never_," the stoat growled.

Kurwin laughed. "Good answer! Yore much smarter'n you think, Fleckle! P'haps you should be the one runnin' this tribe, not that fat blob of fur you call a weasel."

"How can I do that? Ferrin's leadin' this tribe. Only way some other beast can lead is if the current leader got banished or killed."

Kurwin nodded. "Indeed. It would be such a tragedy if good ole Ferrin wound up dead, wouldn't it? Of course…I'm not sure anybeast would miss him."

Kurwin and Fleckle stared at each other until they both had massive, smug grins on their faces.

"I trust by that look on yer face that you know wot must be done."

"Hehe, I do."

"Good! It really was a pleasure talkin' to you, Fleckle. I'll jus' keep chattin' with the rest of yer tribe—err, I mean, _Ferrin's_ tribe. He _is_ the leader…fer now."

Fleckle watched as the cocky ferret began to walk away. His methods of persuasion were a bit unusual, but they worked. Fleckle didn't care about protecting his leader anymore. He was tired of all the times the chubby weasel kicked, beat, punched, and yelled at him for nothing. The stoat knew that Ferrin needed to be disposed of, and soon.

* * *

Dead-Eye and Longfang were busy looking all around the trees and sniffing the air, gesturing for the other beasts to tread lightly. Islik and Slivik were there, although they knew that now wasn't the time to jabber on about their past stories, so they were being quiet. Turvin was there too to assist the two trackers, and Dirtfoot and Trae were commanding the five vermin and providing them support. Dead-Eye and Longfang noticed a series of low branches up ahead and knew that this was the perfect climbing spot for squirrels. Longfang looked all around before he noticed a few paw prints in the ground. Dead-Eye sniffed the air a few times and growled.

"He's close by. Everybeast keep quiet," whispered Dead-Eye.

"You want us ta split up?" asked Islik.

"Yah! Me an' Islik here could each climb a tree—"

"No, stay together," Longfang interrupted.

"Tch, wot for?" asked Dirtfoot.

"'Cos if we split up, that squirrel will just pick us off one atta time 'afore we even know wot happened," said Turvin.

"If you say so," said Slivik.

So the seven vermin continued their journey through the woods, listening to the leaves rustling and the wind occasionally blowing behind them. They heard some sort of bird flapping its wings somewhere above the canopy, but nobeast saw anything swooping down low enough to pluck them off the ground. Dead-Eye inspected one of the bushes growing beside a tree and noticed that only a few berries were there. He looked more closely at the leaves and stems and could see that somebeast had snatched several berries off. The one-eyed ferret looked up into the trees while gripping his spear tightly, and a few other beasts had their weapons drawn. But Dirtfoot just shook his head and folded his arms, finding this entire journey very arduous and time-consuming. Dead-Eye heard a branch snap and jerked around. He looked up at a humongous tree and saw one of the branches several yards above the ground shaking. To make matters worse, a couple leaves were floating down onto the ground. The ferret looked left and right; he could've sworn he saw a shadowy figure hopping onto another branch and hiding behind a tree.

"Shite…yew see that, Longfang?"

"Damn it, I lost 'im!" said Turvin with frustration.

"Coulda jus' been that bird we heard," Dirtfoot mumbled.

Six of the vermin crouched down and started to walk across the ground so carefully that the leaves they crushed with their footpaws barely even crunched. Longfang and Dead-Eye were regretting not having a ranged weapon to take this beast on. If they had a bow and arrow, then this could've been much easier. Trae had his bow and arrow drawn, but he still had no idea where Merle was. All he could see were leaves and branches scattered everywhere. And somewhere within this nest of trees was a beast that longed to shed more vermin blood. But the vermin didn't panic, despite how exposed they felt. They stayed huddled together, their eyes scanning the trees for any strange anomaly. Turvin blinked and gasped when she saw something crouched down on a branch.

"THERE! HE'S RIGHT—"

And then the figure disappeared. Turvin exhaled as she lowered her sling.

"Fuck—he's gone again!"

Dirtfoot closed his eyes and grumbled softly to himself. Traegar noticed how irritated the filthy rat was and snorted as he walked towards him.

"I'm sorry, d'you say somethin'?"

"Nope."

"No, no, no—I'm pretty sure yore jus' _dyin'_ to tell us somethin'. Any advice would be greatly appreciated, Dirtfoot!"

The gray rat shrugged. "Got nuthin' to say."

Trae scoffed. "Wotever. Just keep lookin' out for this arsehole then."

As the rest of the vermin started to walk away, Dirtfoot spotted a piece of kindling on the ground. Grinning, he lifted his footpaw and stomped on it, causing it to snap audibly. The six vermin either gasped or jerked themselves around, panting. Once they found the culprit, Dirtfoot snickered and continued walking.

"Whoops! Guess my footpaw slipped!"

Dead-Eye scoffed. "Yew know wot, jus' head back ta camp. Me an' Turvin an' Longfang can handle this."

"Obviously yer can't! That nose a' yours is just leadin' us 'round in circles! We ain't even goin' the right way!"

"Yes, we are! I told ya, I saw him just up there!" said Turvin.

"Even if we were goin' the wrong way, at least we're tryin' to do somethin'! Wot the fuck have you been doin' this whole time?!" shouted Trae.

"Bein' grumpy," said Islik.

"Bein' dumb," said Slivik.

"Bein' an arsehole."

"Bein' nasty."

"Bein' Dirtfoot," said the foxes in unison, before laughing simultaneously.

"I dunno why ye bothered comin' with us if yew ain't gonna contribute!" said Dead-Eye.

"Lower yore voices! That squirrel can prob'ly hear us!" Longfang warned.

"Bah, so wot?! It's one squirrel and seven bloodthirsty corsairs! That tree climber ain't got a chance!" said Dirtfoot.

"He does if you keep snappin' branches like that an' give away our position," growled Trae.

"OH SHIT! WAS I BEIN' TOO LOUD?! I'M SORRY! I'LL BE QUIET FROM HERE ON OUT!"

Trae lowered his bow and arrow and started to walk towards Dirtfoot. The filthy gray rat did the same, moments away from drawing his cutlass. Longfang could see what was happening and quickly got in-between the two beasts, dropping his spear and stretching out his arms in both of their directions.

"That's enough! From both a' ya!"

"Hmph! I ain't lettin' some tracker—"

"Do you guys _ever_ stop thinkin' with yore balls fer five minutes? There's a squirrel up in them trees tryin' ta kill us fer fuck's sake!" said Turvin.

"She's got a point," Dead-Eye added. "So we ain't found the tree climber yet. So wot, Dirtfoot?! We're goin' in the right direction; I know we are! This whole area reeks of squirrel; he's _very_ close by, prob'ly in one of the trees we're standin' next to right now! So stop makin' this shite harder fer us, stop fuckin' around, an' fig—"

It all happened before anybeast could comprehend it. Even Dead-Eye didn't have the time to process it through his brain. He saw the dark shadowy figure up in the tree carrying some kind of weapon. After seeing the beast, the ferret's right eye grew wide. But the beast already spotted him ahead of time and had a perfectly good arrow pointed at him. Dead-Eye's sentence was cut off as a long arrow went straight through his right eye. He fell backwards and landed on the ground, permanently blinded in both eyes. The six vermin stared at Dead-Eye's corpse and the arrow protruding from his good eye in silence with their jaws hanging down. Longfang let out a tiny whimper while Dirtfoot started to breathe heavily.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered.

Islik was starting to turn around when he shouted in pain. A shaft was sticking out of his left shoulder now and he was bleeding all over his tunic.

"GET DOWN!" Trae shouted.

The six corsairs did as they were told, hiding behind a tree or inside a bush. Longfang and Trae were crouched down inside the same bush, where they had full view of the ferret's body.

"Shit…Dead-Eye?!"

Longfang was about to stand up, but Trae grabbed his trousers and yanked him back down. "Get over here! He's dead; ain't nothin' we can do about it now. You all right, Islik?"

The fox was hiding behind a tree alongside his brother. As he grasped his bleeding shoulder, he chuckled. "Takes more'n a bloody shaft to slow me down!"

"Can't say the same for Dead-Eye…" mumbled Turvin.

"So wot do we do now?" asked Slivik.

As Trae tried to step out into the open, another arrow whizzed by and nearly hit his footpaw. The weasel growled with frustration. "_We_ don't do anythin'! Dead-Eye's dead, and Islik's wounded! You guys head back to camp; I'll take care of Merle!"

"By yoreself?" asked Longfang.

"No point in all of us gettin' slain. 'Sides, if you guys stay, he'll keep woundin' us an' pickin' us off slowly; he'll turn one target into five. I think I know—"

Trae yelped when another arrow whizzed by, this time much closer to his face.

"GO!"

The vermin didn't need to be told twice. They gathered their weapons and started to rush back to camp. Trae stood up and gave them cover, erratically firing arrows up into the trees where he predicted the squirrel was. Slivik helped his brother as he sluggishly ran across the soil while Longfang grunted as he picked up his spear and Dead-Eye's corpse.

"Wot are you doin'?!"

"I ain't leavin' Dead-Eye ta sit 'ere an' rot! Least I can do is bury 'im back at camp!"

Trae watched as the black rat with disgusting yellow fangs began to jog away, carrying Dead-Eye's cadaver over his shoulder. The weasel huffed and shook his head; he never did understand why some vermin bothered risking their lives just to collect the bodies of their slain companions. The weasel panted as he side-stepped his way through the woods, an arrow notched against his bowstring. He crouched down and looked in the trees, watching the leaves rustling and falling from branches. He saw a glimpse of the dark figure and immediately fired an arrow. However, the dark figure dropped down and landed on a lower branch. Trae hurriedly notched another arrow to his bowstring as he stood up and changed location. The weasel crouched down again beside a berry bush, hoping it would conceal his location a little bit. He looked up at the trees again to see if the squirrel had changed location. Much to his horror, he had, and now Merle had a perfect position to spot the weasel. Maybe it was his sixth sense acting up. Maybe he heard something weird. But something told Trae to hit the ground. He yelped as he threw himself backwards, and an arrow flew right past where his skull was only a second ago.

Trae panted heavily as he lied on the ground. Sweating, he flipped himself over as he hid behind the bush. The weasel crawled forward a little and froze. His ears twitched as he heard branches rustling and snapping. The weasel blinked and growled when he heard somebeast skittering along a branch. Then there was a pause. After that, he heard somebeast grunt, followed by another branch rustling. Then there was more skittering seconds later. After that, a pause, and then another grunt accompanied with a branch shaking. This pattern kept repeating itself for quite a while, until Trae realized the noises were getting louder. Merle was running and hopping from tree branch to tree branch. More importantly, he was getting closer to Trae.

"Oh shit," he said grimly.

The weasel stood up and began sprinting in a zigzag formation. Three arrows zipped through the air, one of which flew so close by his right ear that it almost tore said ear in half. Trae pressed his back against another tree before he heard a loud THUNK. The fourth arrow just barely missed him and hit the bark instead. The weasel huffed and swore with frustration. This was going nowhere; he needed to have the same advantage as the rodent. Staying on the ground just made it easier for the squirrel to kill him. So Trae looked up at the branch hanging above him and put his arrow back in the quiver. Then the weasel put the bow around his back and grunted as he jumped up and climbed onto the branch. The weasel didn't stop, no matter how tired he felt as he climbed. Trae didn't have the same magnificent climbing skills as a squirrel, but he still knew how to scurry up a tree with much haste. Traegar continued climbing from branch to branch until he hauled himself onto a long and thick branch that supported his weight without bending even a little bit.

The weasel blinked and looked left and right, hoping to detect the squirrel sooner than later. He slowly edged to his right, making his way towards the end of the branch. Then Trae froze when he heard leaves rustling up ahead. Not taking any chances, Traegar equipped his bow and notched an arrow again, hoping Merle would show himself eventually. And then he saw it: a squirrel with light brown fur peeking around the corner of the tree he was hiding behind. Trae fired an arrow, but the squirrel immediately jerked his head back and hid. The weasel pulled out another arrow and aimed, but Merle reacted faster. He sprinted out into the open and threw three throwing knives at Trae. The weasel swore vehemently as he lost his footing trying to dodge the knives. Then Trae screamed as he fell off the branch and crashed onto the one below him, which snapped in half a second later. The weasel fell for a few seconds, then reached up and luckily grabbed onto another branch. His heart pounding and sweat pouring down his face, Trae hastily pulled himself back up. He jerked back around with his bow and arrow out and looked up into the trees.

And then he hopped to the left and nearly fell again when another arrow was fired his way. Frustrated, Traegar leaped onto the tree branch across from him before sprinting and skittering up the tree bark with his bare paws. He jumped up onto a higher branch and latched onto it, seconds before propelling his body forward and landing on an adjacent branch. Traegar looked up and saw the squirrel hopping at least two yards so he could latch himself onto a different tree several feet away. Traegar huffed with frustration as he watched the squirrel scurry up the wooden surface. He aimed his bow at the climbing rodent and fired. As if to taunt the weasel, Merle hopped off the tree and disappeared from his field of vision like an annoying fly. Traegar snarled furiously and swore again, practically foaming at the mouth over how bothersome this one squirrel was. The weasel put his bow and arrows aside and took out his dirk instead. There was no point in trying to swat the fly while it was buzzing around in the air. He was better off waiting for it to land on a smooth surface so he could catch it by surprise and crush it with his bare paw.

What was supposed to be a simple hunting expedition turned into an arduous cat-and-mouse game. Traegar found himself hopping back and forth, jumping up and down just to get closer to the squirrel—or at least to avoid his deadly arrows and throwing knives. It wasn't until the weasel collapsed onto a branch panting from exhaustion that he realized this was exactly what the squirrel wanted. He wanted to tire him out so he'd make a mistake and fumble. At the rate Trae was going, the weasel would die because he fell and broke his neck, not because the rodent killed him. Seeing no other option, Traegar stood on a tree branch, dirk in paw, and waited. If he was right, then Merle would get bored and look for him instead. The weasel even breathed heavily just to make it sound like he was more tired than it seemed. So he stood and waited for nearly five minutes, and then heard somebeast grunt and land on a branch very close by. Traegar held his breath. Something told him that the beast was on the opposite side of the tree. He glanced to his left. There was another branch hanging from the tall brown tree.

He stepped onto it before hearing another grunt. Traegar looked down and saw Merle looking around questionably. The weasel didn't take any chances. He dropped from the branch he stood on and landed on the one directly beneath him. Merle gasped. Traegar shouted as he charged forward and prepared to stab the squirrel. But the squirrel immediately pulled out a dagger, and the two creatures started to fight each other at close range. Merle was attacking swiftly and waiting for the right opportunity, whilst the irritated Traegar was just trying to kill Merle as soon as possible. He snarled and crouched down to avoid a horizontal swipe from Merle. Then he tackled the squirrel against the tree bark, pinning him with his brute strength. He snarled again and lifted his right arm, preparing to stab the squirrel in the head. Merle grabbed Trae's right arm with his left paw, and then tried to stab Trae with the dagger in his right paw, which was subsequently grabbed by Trae's left paw. The two beasts were in each other's faces, snarling and grunting, both sweaty and exhausted from so much climbing. They were so close together that Merle could smell Trae's rancid breath, and Trae could smell all the berries the squirrel had consumed.

Merle jerked his head to the right when Traegar snapped at him, getting a bit of spittle on his neck. Both creatures stared at each other again and kept snarling and grunting. Trae was trying to stab Merle in the head; Merle was trying to stab Trae in the abdomen. The only problem with Merle's strategy was that he didn't fight dirty. Traegar did. So after much frustration, Traegar opened his mouth and lunged forward. The weasel's mouth was the predator, and Merle's fragile eyeball was the plump, juicy prey. The squirrel screamed as Traegar bit down on his left eye socket, but it wasn't until Trae started to close his mouth that he really started to holler. The weasel could feel the fluids oozing out of Merle's eyeball before it eventually popped and blood gushed out. Merle dropped his dagger and used his right paw to slowly pry Trae's head away, but the damage had been done. Then the squirrel ducked and snapped his head to the right as he let go of Trae's wrist, causing him to stab the tree instead of the squirrel. The squirrel fell off the branch and crashed through several more thin branches before he finally collapsed onto another thick tree limb. Trae quickly descended and arrived to the giant branch before he noticed that the squirrel wasn't there. Somehow, he must've jumped to another tree.

"What's wrong, tree climber?! Givin' up already over a li'l injury?" the weasel taunted.

Traegar snickered evilly as he slowly crept along the branch. But then he felt the same branch he was on shake. Trae tried to turn around, but Merle was quicker. He grabbed Trae from behind and held his dagger to his throat.

"No…jus' needed to get my weapon back!" he snarled.

Thinking quickly, Trae jerked his head backwards and bashed his skull into Merle's face three times. As the squirrel's nose began to bleed, Trae tried to wiggle his way to freedom. It didn't work. With no other option, he jerked his entire body backwards, causing both beasts to fall off the branch. They both screamed as they fell several feet to the ground and landed with a hard thud. Merle took most of the damage since Trae fell on top of him, but the weasel was still disoriented. Groaning and grabbing his head, Trae rolled off Merle's body and retrieved his dirk from the forest floor. He rushed back over to the moaning squirrel, who was covering his mutilated eye socket and still trying to hold his dagger. He tried to defend himself, but the exhaustion from so much hopping, combined with his eye wound and the fall from the tree weakened him too much. Trae tackled the squirrel again and stayed on top of his body. Before the rodent could do anything, Trae took his dirk and drove it into his forehead. Given Trae's irritation, he went well out of his way to stab the unfortunate squirrel three more times while snarling.

And then it was all quiet. The panting weasel got off Merle and sat against a tree, his dirk littered with blood. In all the confusion, Trae had dropped his quiver of arrows, and he had a feeling his bow might be a little bent from the fall. But at least the bothersome squirrel was dead.

"Jumpy li'l fucker…" he said wheezily.

Traegar looked at Merle's steadily cooling body and crawled over to it. Remembering what Ferrin Rord said about the squirrel's head, the weasel grinned widely and thrust his blade into the squirrel's neck.

"Relax. You won't feel a thing," he muttered as he started to brutally and repeatedly stab the neck.

* * *

Traegar returned to the camp some time later, although some of Kurwin's crew weren't exactly celebrating. As he approached the camp, he could see that a few vermin were already digging a hole to put Dead-Eye's corpse into. A majority of the corsairs were just trackers who knew Dead-Eye, but a few soldiers like Blowhorn and Bloodbrain were present as well, waiting to bury the ferret. The weasel sighed heavily as he walked over to Slipfoot and Longfang, both of whom were leaning against a tree and watching as other corsairs dug the hole. Longfang flicked his eyes over at Traegar before staring at Dead-Eye's corpse again.

"You okay?"

Longfang opened his mouth slightly and licked the underside of his right fang. It was something he usually did whenever he was irritated or pissed off about something. He folded his arms and shook his head.

"Not really."

"Just sucks when shit like this 'appens, y'know?" said Slipfoot.

"Dead-Eye was a good mate of mine…one of the few beasts that didn't bother or annoy me ta death. Did yer find the bastard—"

Trae lifted Merle's severed head. Slipfoot and Longfang glanced at the head that was messily removed from the squirrel's shoulders and blinked, and then resumed looking at Dead-Eye's body.

"Oh," said Longfang flatly.

"You don't feel better, do you?"

"…No."

Traegar sighed before he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "So you gonna cry now? I mean it's…it's fine if ya do, I guess."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't deny it."

Longfang huffed. "You know wot, fuck you, Traegar! All you captains an' soldiers jus' see beasts like me an' Turvin an' Dead-Eye as nothin' but live bait! So wot if one of us gets killed—none a' you give a shit about it! Not my fault that unlike you, me an' Slipfoot an' Turvin _do_ care that Dead-Eye's not breathin' anymore!"

"You think Dead-Eye's death doesn't upset me?"

"No, I don't, 'cos yer used ta havin' yore friends die on ya."

Traegar's right eye twitched upon hearing that comment, but he didn't feel like responding, because he knew Longfang wasn't necessarily wrong. After being a corsair for so long, watching beasts like Dead-Eye abruptly die on his watch just seemed commonplace now. The weasel walked away from the two trackers when he noticed that Bloodbrain had been staring at him ever since he returned. The weasel stopped walking and growled as he approached him.

"Now what's yore damn problem?"

"You should have brought me along. I'm not sure why you chose to leave me here when I could've easily taken out that squirrel."

"This ain't the time for 'I told you so,' Bloodbrain! Dead-Eye's gone, so get over it."

"Dead-Eye's death is not wot bothers me. Wot bothers me is that you know how useful I am with a bow and arrow, yet you chose to leave me behind to 'mingle' with this tribe. I could've prevented this. But instead, your army lost a _very_ good tracker, and one of your soldiers has been wounded."

"Yore not perfect, Bloodbrain. Stop actin' like it."

Bloodbrain nodded. "Fair enough. I'll admit I'm not perfect, but you have to admit that you neglected to take me with you because you didn't want me to spoil your 'fun.' If I had come along, I would've killed that squirrel long before anybeast spotted him, thereby ruining the glorious hunt."

Bloodbrain's menacing scowl suddenly seemed to become bigger and more noticeable. "Am I right?"

Traegar scoffed as he rubbed his chin and shrugged. "So what? Maybe we _didn't_ want ya to spoil our fun. Maybe Dead-Eye would be alive if ya came along, but so fuckin' what? I got the job done—"

"—and you had lots of fun, didn't you?"

Bloodbrain turned away from Traegar and stared at the hole being dug. "That's wot I like about you, Traegar: yore not afraid to have a little fun in battle, even if it means sacrificing the lives of others."

The weasel couldn't find a proper comeback that didn't involve breaking Bloodbrain's nose, so he just mumbled under his breath and walked over to go check on Islik. The fox was sitting beside his younger brother, wincing as he tried to remove the arrow from his shoulder carefully. Dirtfoot was standing a foot away, screeching at Kurwin over the problem Traegar "caused."

"I'm tellin' yer, he let it all 'appen!"

Kurwin nodded. "I s'pose he won't mind sharin' his side of the story now then?"

Dirtfoot turned around and snorted when he saw Traegar walking towards him. The weasel chucked the severed head and watched as it rolled in front of Dirtfoot and Kurwin. The ferret smirked.

"Good job, Trae."

"'Good job,' he says. Yah, he definitely fucked this one up awright!"

Islik shouted once Slivik removed the arrow. He held his bleeding shoulder and groaned. "Wot are you complainin' about?"

"Aye! You were the one who cocked this whole thing up fer us!" said Slivik.

"An' just how in the world did I do that?!" snarled Dirtfoot.

"You gave away our position. You started screamin' at the top of yore lungs you fuckin' idiot!" snapped Trae.

Dirtfoot scoffed and folded his arms. "Pfft! An' that makes it my fault?"

"It does when Dead-Eye gets slain not even a minute after ya start hollerin' like that!" shouted Slivik.

"Aye. Dead-Eye got slain 'cos of _you_, Dirtfoot, not Traegar," replied Islik.

"That's enough!" Kurwin bellowed.

The four beasts stopped arguing with one another and looked at the ferret's scarred face. He sighed heavily and kicked Merle's head like it were a common ball babes played with. "So we lost a tracker. It's unfortunate, but we got more. So Islik got an arrow in the shoulder. That's unfortunate, but the fox is a tough son of a bitch an' he'll deal with it, won't you, Islik?"

The fox scoffed and rolled his shoulder slightly. "'Tis only a flesh wound, sah!"

Kurwin nodded. "That's wot I thought. Now, if I recall correctly, Dirtfoot, Traegar was the beast who slew Merle without _yore_ help, or help from any other beast."

"But he—"

Kurwin grabbed Dirtfoot's muzzle and clamped it shut with his paws. "Shut up. Even if this were Trae's fault, he did more good than harm. You were the one who returned to me with a dead tracker, a wounded fox, and yer cock in yer paws."

Kurwin let go of Dirtfoot's muzzle and shoved the rat backwards, almost knocking him down in the process. The ferret looked at the squirrel's head and sighed with relief.

"Now that that's over with, all we have to do is show our li'l prize to the clan's leader!"

"I told you, Kurwin: we're not workin' with some pompous weasel like Ferrin Rord! We're better off choppin' his head off like I did with Merle!" protested Trae.

Kurwin grinned. "Who said I was referrin' to Ferrin?"

* * *

Fleckle entered his leader's tent carrying a standard bottle of fluids with him. The corpulent weasel was busy chewing on part of a roasted bird when he swallowed hard and saw his loyal bodyguard approach him.

"Fleckle! Just where the hell have you been all this time?!"

"Talkin' to the captain of these pirates, sah. Sounds ta me like they've slain Merle fer us!"

Ferrin laughed, his giant belly jiggling in the process. "Good, that's very good! Now everybeast from here to the Northlands will have a reason ta fear me, the great and wise Ferrin Rord!"

As the weasel basked in his narcissism, Fleckle scratched his arm awkwardly and stood closer to the obese beast. He was about to lift his bottle when Ferrin lifted his legs and placed his footpaws on the table he was eating off of. The weasel sighed heavily as he wiggled his toes.

"I believe it's time fer you ta clean my footpaws again! Can't present myself to Kurwin and his smelly pirates again when my soles are so dirty!"

Fleckle looked down at Rord's disgusting footpaws and growled without opening his mouth. He was so tempted to hop over the table so he could tear the weasel's throat out with his teeth. Ferrin noticed Fleckle's hesitation and snorted.

"_Now_, Fleckle! Or do you wanna use yore tongue again?!"

Fleckle, somehow, managed to smile. "As much as I'd love to lick those delectable soles a' yers clean, I think you should have a li'l drink first."

Fleckle set the bottle down on the table. Ferrin, being the glutton he was, stared at the mysterious bottle and put his footpaws down. The weasel grabbed the bottle with his paws and blinked.

"Wot's this?"

"A gift from Kurwin! He said it's seaweed grog, one of the corsairs' favorite drinks!"

Rord took the cork off the bottle before he curiously sniffed the fluids. He groaned and recoiled in disgust.

"URGH! Wot foul concoction is this?! Hmph, no wonder that corsair's breath stinks so much; I'm surprised this filth hasn't rotted all his pirates' teeth!"

Fleckle ignored the fact that he didn't know what "concoction" meant and continued. "Like I said, it's a gift, sah!"

Rord scoffed and set the bottle down. "Then tell that odorous beast I decline his gift!"

Fleckle smirked and shrugged. "No problem, sah. Course, then his pirates will know yer a coward…"

Rord's nostrils flared. "Wot?"

"Oh, it's nothin'. Kurwin an' his crew all joked how you'd never be able to drink this slop 'cos it's too deadly fer you. Only tough beasts who can handle this fiery con…con…um, drink, are worthy of showing every other beast how brave they are. But it's okay, sah! You don't need to prove them anythin'; they're just a buncha smelly corsairs, 'member?"

Rord snarled and snatched the bottle back up. "Fuck that ferret. I'll show 'im brave!"

And with that, Ferrin Rord proceeded to guzzle down nearly half the bottle of grog in one go. Fleckle watched his leader gulp down the fiery fluids without trying to smirk the entire time. It didn't take the plump beast long to consume half the beverage, and once he finished, he slammed the half-empty bottle down and started to cough and hack from the bitter flavor. The weasel stuck out his tongue multiple times and shook his head, groaning from the horrible taste.

"GAH! Could they make this slop anymore disgusting?! Wot the hell did they put in it?!"

Fleckle shrugged. "Oh, the usual. Some crushed seaweed, bit of water, deadly poison, some salt…hmm, what else…"

Ferrin's eyes grew wide. He stared at the bottle and blinked before slowly looking up at the tall stoat. The weasel rubbed his throat—which was starting to feel sore and dry—before he coughed.

"Um…wo-wot was that third thing?"

Rord saw Fleckle grin in a way he never imagined possible. It was a smug grin, the grin he would see on a winner's face as he callously gloated to the loser how much better he was at whatever game he just won. More importantly, it was the grin of betrayal, something he'd see on the face of a turncoat. Rord grabbed his stomach and started to breathe heavily. He shut his eyes and exhaled as the stomach pain went away. But it came back only a few seconds later, much worse than before.

"Poison, sah. Fast-actin', fatal, toxic poison. This fox from Kurwin's crew—Sheeka I believe—gave me some poison ta plant inside that bottle. Think it's the same stuff Farran the Poisoner used all those generations ago, so you should be dead shortly."

Ferrin tried to scream, but his throat was closing up. It was becoming harder for him to breathe and move his limbs. As he grabbed his throat and gagged, Ferrin stood up, only to slouch back over and collapse on the ground. Fleckle looked down at the subdued weasel, watching as he began to die slowly and made pathetic gagging, coughing sounds. The stoat casually walked over to the same structure Ferrin was sitting on and sat down. He looked at Rord as his stomach pains became severe and the weasel struggled to breathe. Then Fleckle sighed and placed his equally filthy footpaws on the weasel's immense belly.

"I'd ask ya to lick _my_ footpaws instead, but you'll be dead in another minute or so."

"W…w-why?" croaked Ferrin.

Fleckle snorted. "Why? 'Cos yore mean ta me? 'Cos you punch me, throw things at me, whack me with yore hammer fer no reason? 'Cos you make me lick yore footpaws clean?! I've been nothin' but loyal ta you, Rord! This whole tribe has done everythin' you ask, yet you constantly shit all over us an' treat us like we're yore slaves!"

Ferrin tried to say something in his defense, but all he could do was make a disturbing gargling noise.

"This tribe's better off without you. However, if somebeast like me were runnin' it, well, this tribe might actually do somethin' with itself, become Mossflower's most-feared Juska clan since Sawney Rath were alive."

As Ferrin's gagging sounds became quieter, Fleckle chuckled evilly as he got comfortable in his seat.

"Goodbye, Ferrin. I'll see you at Hellgates!"

And with a sloppy, gurgling sound, Rord stopped moving, as well as breathing. Fleckle stared at the weasel's half-open eyes before he laughed evilly again. With Rord dead, Fleckle Mard was now the ruler of the Juskarord—or rather, Juskamard—tribe. And he had Kurwin to thank for it.


	5. Eat All the Fish

**V**

**Eat All the Fish**

The lieutenant grunted and winced as the medic applied the poultice around his sensitive area. Morson grumbled to himself as he looked over his shoulder at the hare hovering around his backside.

"Are ya done yet?! It's just a fuckin' flesh wound, wot!"

The medic frowned as he shook his head. "Flesh wound? I think not, sah! A little farther to the right an' you'd be spendin' the next few seasons releasin' blood in yore stool!"

"Just hurry it up, Stink Mouth! I can't stand here all day!"

"All you hares should be grateful I'm around to patch you up. Without me, a lotta you would be dead from infection; these wounds don't go away, y'know! They fester an' make you sick, have you lyin' on the ground shakin' an' vomitin' all over yoreselves! 'Member poor ole Dungee?"

Morson closed his eyes and sighed heavily as Stink Mouth kept applying the poultice. He drowned out his incessant rambling for as long as he could before the light brown hare finally stood up and finished patching up the lieutenant.

"There! Now you should be all set for the day!"

"Thank you, Stink Mouth," Morson mumbled flatly.

"My pleasure!"

Some of the hares who were staring at the embarrassing ordeal quickly looked away and snickered. A few soldiers laughed over how touchy-feely Stink Mouth was when administering the poultice. Others couldn't help but notice the obvious dark color of the moist substance smeared around the left side of Morson's rump. Morson grumbled again as he continued to walk alongside the hares, the poultice irritating his bottom. With the exception of the lieutenant's injury, the hares and Badger Lord were feeling quite proud of themselves. The whole tribe had been extinguished and not a single hare had been lost. A majority of the hares knew that it was only a minor victory, but even so, the Long Patrol knew that weeds spread and grow if they're ignored for too long. It was better for them to get rid of the weeds now while they were small and insignificant, as opposed to waiting until they grew out of control and were impossible to destroy. Nearly everybeast had gotten past the incident where Morson snapped Danik's neck, although Corporal Bonson still refused to look at him the same way. They had bigger issues to fixate on, like keeping the vermin count in Mossflower down to a minimum.

Urthquake led his hares alongside the river the Guosim usually patrolled. But the large badger saw no presence of them; there wasn't a logboat in sight, and he couldn't even hear the short beasts arguing with each other like they frequently did. All the hares kept their eyes and long ears open, blinking and twitching their ears for any sign of them. The calm blue water of the river sloshed around quietly as it flowed west. The wind blew in the hares' faces, carrying the scent of a pleasant spring afternoon on it. And that was exactly the problem: it was too calm and pleasant for the hares. They hardly even heard birds chirping or saw shadows of them as they walked along the ground. Urthquake and the other hares noticed that the number of alder trees in the area was growing, along with the number of berry bushes growing beside them. Not all the trees were fully bloomed, but the healthy green leaves were hanging from several branches, and there was so many of them that it provided much cover for foes. Urthquake growled to himself and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand when one of his trackers addressed him.

"M'Lord, logboats up ahead!" shouted Elonv.

Urthquake almost sighed with relief. He started to speed up as he and his hares walked alongside the dry bank. But as they got closer to the logboats, they could see that all of them were abandoned and just sitting in the river tied to lime or alder trees. Some of the hares at the front of the group started to draw their weapons.

"D'you think they got ambushed, sah?"

"Couldn't be. No traces of blood anywhere," said a female hare named Ozgin.

Urthquake was about to say something when he heard a bush shaking a few feet away. The blue-striped badger relaxed himself as he lowered his axe and leaned against a thick alder.

"You can come out now," said Urthquake in his deep, but loud voice.

"Damn it, I told ye t'stop movin'!" shouted a squeaky voice.

Three seconds later, at least sixty shrews all wearing colorful headbands appeared from the undergrowth. Some of the shrews had mud smeared all over their bodies, while others were dressed in dark clothing to blend in with the dark environment. The "leader" of the shrews, a chubby, spiky creature wearing a kilt and buckled belt stepped out of the bush he was hiding in and greeted the burly badger.

"Sorry, Badger Lord, just workin' on a proper ambush is all! Gotta brush up on me skills as a Guosim warrior if'n I'm t'be as good as me dad!"

"Where is your father anyway?"

"Right here!"

Some of the hares gasped and looked up into the trees with wide eyes once they heard tons of rustling. Several more shrews revealed themselves after using the canopy to conceal themselves. All of them had arrows or stone-loaded slings aimed at Urthquake and his long-eared soldiers. Urthquake looked up at all the spiky-furred beasts and blinked.

"Hmm, a secondary ambush in case the first one fails. I'll admit I didn't see that coming," said Urthquake, although the tone of his voice suggested the opposite.

The leader of the Guosim whistled and instructed his warriors to climb down the trees. Once they were all down, the portly shrew that was bigger than all the rest laughed heartily as he walked over to Urthquake.

"So 'ow's it goin' big fella? Ye ain't gonna give yore ole Log-a-Log a nice big hug?"

Urthquake smirked. "Not without crushing your spine."

The burly shrew started to laugh heartily. He always found the Badger Lord amusing, even when Urthquake wasn't trying to be funny at all. After the large shrew had his laugh, he snorted and glanced over at his son.

"An' wot 'ave I said about stayin' still when attemptin' an ambush?"

"This ain't my fault, Dad! Lugo wouldn't—"

"It's yore job to keep yore shrews in line! 'Ow else do ye expect to become Log-a-Log after I'm gone?"

The younger shrew exhaled and looked down. "Yes, Dad."

"Now go back to practicin' yore knots! That logboat o'er there looks like it's about t'float away!"

The younger shrew didn't reply. He just heard several older shrews snickering at him, staring at him with smug, pompous grins on their faces. Log-a-Log's son walked over to the logboats, mumbling under his breath so the Chieftain wouldn't hear.

"Sorry 'bout that. Benrath still needs some trainin' it seems!"

"Give him time, Brugo. He'll figure it out eventually."

"Or get slain in the process. But enough about all that! I'm guessin' yer here 'cos ye slew all them beasts givin' me tribe so much trouble?"

Urthquake nodded. "Didn't have a single casualty either."

"'Cept fer Morson's arse, wot!"

"I HEARD THAT, LAKLER!" screamed Morson, who was at least two yards away from the dirty hare.

"That's wunnerful! Was gettin' quite tired o' those rodents, always stealin' our supplies under our noses. Well, since yore entire squad's 'ere, 'ow's about ye stay 'ere for awhile, relax an' feast with us?"

Urthquake rubbed his chin as he looked down at the chubby shrew. He turned around and faced his army with a satisfied grin on his face.

"What do you say soldiers?! Shall we stay here and feast with our Guosim Chieftain and his warriors?"

The immense roaring Urthquake heard immediately afterwards was a good enough answer. All the hares knew that dining with a bunch of shrews was nowhere near as good as eating at Redwall, but after spending so many days and nights patrolling Mossflower and ridding the country of evildoers, they took what they could get.

* * *

It was still in the afternoon, but the clouds had rolled in, blocking out the radiant sun. A few hares were beginning to think it was about to rain, while others welcomed the cool shift in the climate. The shrews didn't have enough vittles to feed everybeast, so some of the hares accompanied the shrews as they headed into the forest looking for more nourishment. Those not looking for food were busy talking and getting to know the well-loved shrews who protected Mossflower's rivers. Having spent most of their time catching their food, the Long Patrol found the shrews' vittles above average—some would even say astounding. Almost everybeast, hares included, drank fizzy shrewbeer or sampled the sweet strawberry and blackberry cordial the Guosim brewer Kallin made. Most of the food was simple, but delicious: oat bread, russet apples, pears, berries, and yellow cheeses. Two different soups were being heated over two separates fires; one contained mushrooms, beetroots, onions, and leeks, while the other one contained watershrimp, herbs, and chunks of fish that had been chopped up and thrown into the concoction. Sadly, the hares had no privilege of eating dessert, so they settled for picking any raw fruits or sweet berries they found in the area.

Not far from Log-a-Log's personal oversized raft, a pawful of shrews were sitting around the cauldron containing the vegetable soup, either grabbing more bowls of the hot and satisfying nourishment, or adding more vegetables to it to make it tastier. A skinny shrew with a yellow headband glanced over at a stout hare in a blue coat and scoffed.

"Yore addin' too many carrot chunks!"

Becker snickered as he sliced off another chunk of the carrot and let it splash into the bubbling soup. "Too much carrot? I think not! I'm balancin' out the flavour, wot! It is you who has made the fault; you added too much onion!"

"I'm the Chieftain's chef; I make most of the food fer the Guosim, nobeast else! I ain't 'eard any other beast complainin' about the soup! It's good, isn't it?" asked the shrew.

Qwuintuff didn't answer. He was too busy drinking the soup directly from the bowl as though it were tea. When he lowered the bowl, he started to lick it clean and glanced up at everybeast else.

"Wot? I got some on my face?"

Stanno finished his soup and shrugged. "Tastes fine to me."

"I don't see why yore whinin', Becker. You should be glad yore gettin' grub this good in the first place!"

Becker snickered again after hearing Saronso speak. "That's just it, m'dear! This soup is just 'good,' it's not _great_ at all! With all these carrot chunks, I'm more than sure that this soup will be absolutely capital!"

"An' how would you know? Yore not a chef, Becker," retorted the female hare.

Qwuintuff rubbed his chin and exhaled. "Here we go…"

"No, no, but I _used_ to be, wot! An' the one thing I learnt back when I were just a leveret was that you do not smother a soup with onions!"

"Jus' give us another bowl so we can go," muttered Stanno.

The shrew chef poured more of the delicious (but "adequate") soup into Stanno and Qwuintuff's bowls without Becker or Saron noticing. The two hares got up and left, already knowing that a huge argument or fight was about to break out. Some of the other hares and shrews stayed, curious to see what would happen next. The chef got himself a bowl of soup and sat down next to Issarck.

"Are they always like this?"

"Every day."

"Oh. …So are they siblings or wot?"

Issarck shook his head as he slurped up some soup. "Nope. They jus' like to h'argue all the time h'over nothin'. We're jus' waitin' h'until the day they finally make up an' fuck each other."

Becker didn't even care about the soup anymore. He was too busy trying to "win" his argument with Saronso.

"I know wot good soup is! You an' the rest of these shrews 'ave no taste!"

"We do 'ave taste! Yore just a long-eared fathead tryin' t'make everythin' the way _you_ want it!"

"An' yore just a bloated blighter with too much sand up yer hole!"

At that point Saronso shoved her bowl of soup to the ground, shattering it. Issarck rubbed his forehead while the other shrews stared at the hare with wide eyes, watching as she stood up, got into a boxing stance, and stared at the chubby hare with a menacing scowl on her face.

"Put 'em up."

Becker scoffed. "Wot?"

"I'm gettin' tired of yore fuckin' mouth, Becker! Mebbe you'll be less cocky when everybeast sees you can't even box properly, wot!"

The plump hare laughed. "I am not fightin' you _again_, Saron. I'd ruin yore pretty li'l face!"

Saron smirked. "I get it. Yore afraid of losin' an' gettin' that fat arse of yers kicked by a female!"

The shrews and hares started to snicker at Becker. Not wanting to lose face, the blue-coated hare sighed with exasperation and tossed the carrot and knife he held onto the ground. The captain put up his paws and balled them into fists, grinning as he entered a similar boxing stance.

"All right, but I must warn—"

Saron jabbed Becker in the mouth to shut him up. The shocked look on Becker's face, along with the wide smirk on Saron's face, was enough to make nearly everybeast howl with laughter. Getting serious, Becker snorted and started to return punches, and the two hares began to duck and weave as they started to box each other, with the hares and shrews around them cheering each beast on. But not everybeast was observing the sparring match between the two hares. Somewhere deeper in the woods, a couple hares and shrews were taking things more seriously, sitting on the ground as they ate food and plotted out various attack patterns. Benrath was sitting amongst the shrews, although very few of the prickly beasts were actually listening to him.

"Ye see that leaf right there? That's where the ambush'll 'appen," started Benrath.

Two colonels named Sanjoy and Clannin nodded their heads as they munched on russet apples. Despite their high ranking in the Long Patrol, all they wore were dark gray tunics and blue-and-green-striped waistsashes. They never found the itchy, sometimes heavy coats all that comfortable, and wearing less clothing made them light on their footpaws whenever it came to sword fighting.

"Go on," said Clannin.

"So I figure, half the shrews are in a logboat here," said Benrath, as he moved a stick through the dirt behind the leaf, "an' then the rest o' the shrews 'ide in the bushes back 'ere," he said, before moving another stick in front of the leaf. "After that, we all yell 'Logalogalogalogalooooooog!' like we always do'n WHAM! We spring up from the hidin' spots an' fire a whole lotta arrows at the enemy!"

Sanjoy and Clannin stopped eating and looked up at Benrath. "That's yore idea?" asked Clannin.

Benrath nodded with a gleeful smile on his face. "Aye! Wot d'ye think?"

"Terrible," Sanjoy said bluntly.

Benrath's smile disappeared as soon as it appeared. The older, more experienced shrews around him snickered or flat-out laughed at the young shrew.

"Wot? I-I don't unnerstand."

Clannin took a bite out of his apple and spoke to Benrath with his mouth full. "If you fire arrows usin' the plan you just told us, yore gonna end up slayin' yer own shrews in the process. One of 'em could be yore very own Log-a-Log. You wanna be responsible fer the death of yore father?"

Clannin took a thin twig and drew several lines in the dirt going to and from the two thick sticks Benrath placed in front of and behind the leaf. He tossed it aside, along with his apple core.

"See all them lines? That's yore arrow fire. Sure, yore gonna slay yer target, but yore gonna end up killin' each other from friendly fire, an' nobeast wants that."

Benrath looked down at the ground and twiddled his thumbs before meekly saying, "Oh."

"See, Benrath? Ye ain't fit t'be Log-a-Log yet!" snarled a headstrong shrew wearing a red headband.

Sanjoy glanced up at the cocky shrew with folded arms and blinked. "An' you are?"

The shrew scoffed. "Aye! I'm much older'n li'l Benrath 'ere anyways!"

"By three fuckin' seasons," growled Benrath.

"So wot? Only means I got more experience on me side!"

"No, it don't! It only means you spent three more seasons'n I 'ave lazin' around on ye fat arse, Jurlick!"

Jurlick seemingly ignored Benrath and ruffled the fur on his head as he sat down. "Ole Benrath 'ere's jus' upset 'cos I caught 'im creamin' his kilt in his sleep!"

Benrath nearly blushed at that point when all the other shrews around him started to break out into laughter. Clannin, however, was less impressed with the rowdy shrews' attitudes, especially since they were trying to train Benrath into being a great warrior like his father. Sanjoy chuckled softly to herself as she nudged Clannin's right arm.

"Remember when you had that little problem when we was leverets?"

Clannin didn't change his expression or even look at Sanjoy. But his right ear twitched and wiggled a bit, as though the hare was trying to shake off a tiny insect crawling up his long ear. He had a habit of doing that whenever he was irritated; it was usually a warning that he was on the verge of exploding with fury.

"No, I do not," he lied.

Sanjoy grinned. "Y'know, yore family spent time with mine, an' we 'ad to sleep against each other 'cos it were so cold…"

Clannin's right ear was almost curling at this point and bending over and over again. "No, I have no idea wot yore talkin' about," he said in a louder voice.

The shrews didn't even care about Clannin and Sanjoy's story. They were still making fun of Benrath and the personal issues he occasionally suffered from overnight. The Chieftain's son tried to get back at Jurlick, but it failed miserably.

"We-well, at least I don't go off stickin' me cock into everythin' where everybeast c'n see me!"

Jurlick quaffed a sufficient amount of the shrewbeer he was holding and snorted. "HA! So ye _were_ spyin' on me when I was fuckin' Serley, eh? Wot's that say 'bout ye? Was ye strokin' yoreself at the time too?"

Jurlick finished off the rest of his shrewbeer and continued to berate Benrath. "An' so wot if'n I fuck females all the time? Any _babe_ c'n stroke hisself; it takes a real beast t'find a good female t'stick his cock inside! Ye got a female, Benrath?"

The shrew exhaled and shut his eyes. "No…"

"Course ye don't! Spent too much time clingin' ta the Chieftain's fat arse! But I ain't surprised. Ain't 'ad no mum in ye life, so ye 'ad t'suck out the milk from _somewhere_, right?"

That did it. When Benrath opened his eyes, he was on the verge of tears. The young shrew stared at Jurlick as he and the rest of the shrews around him collapsed to the ground laughing hysterically. All of them felt like they were about to empty their bladders all over themselves from laughing so hard. Tears were streaming out one shrew's eyes, and another one almost started to choke on the oat bread in his mouth. Benrath tried not to whine or cry; he just shut his eyes and sniffled silently, hoping the tears would go away. The two colonels weren't just sitting by idly; they kept flicking their eyes at Benrath, wondering if the son of Log-a-Log would stand up to the bullies. But Sanjoy and Clannin could see that Jurlick and his bullies wouldn't let up, so they needed to step in.

"How would you do it?" Clannin asked over the raucous laughter.

The chuckling Jurlick sat back up and wiped a tear from his face. "Hohoho, the—do wot now?"

"The ambush? How would you carry it out since Benrath can't do it properly?"

Jurlick stared at Clannin, completely dumbfounded. He glanced to his left and right, expecting some other beast to give him advice. When nobeast spoke, Jurlick scratched the back of his head nervously.

"Oh, ye know! I'd, uh, I'd prob'ly—"

Jurlick squealed like he was five seasons old when Clannin tackled him to the ground and got on top of his body. Panting and whimpering, Jurlick tried to fight off the taller, stronger, and more experienced hare as the colonel took out a knife from his waistsash and started to point it at his left eye. Jurlick started to thrash his legs around and began to scream for help, but Clannin quickly covered his mouth. Benrath, although shocked, couldn't help but stare with a satisfied grin on his face.

"Wot the fuck are ye doin'?!"

"Get off 'im!"

Jurlick's friends started to reach for their rapiers. Sanjoy hopped to her footpaws and took hers out faster.

"Sit down," she snarled.

Even for somebeast as pretty as her, Sanjoy still knew how to put on an intimidating face. Jurlick's friends all stared at the chubby tan hare and sat down. Meanwhile, Jurlick was still whining and thrashing his legs around, crying for help with a paw covering his mouth.

"Yore in the middle of a battle! I'm a filthy searat an' I got ya pinned to the ground! Is this wot ya do: cry like a li'l bitch an' scream fer help? Sounds like somethin' a snivelin' li'l babe would do! Wouldn't you agree, Sanj?"

Sanjoy smirked. "I most certainly would, Clan."

After a brief moment, Clannin got off Jurlick and removed his paw from his mouth. The shrew gasped and quickly began to stand up, shuddering as a few tears began to roll down his face. Clannin looked up at the smug shrew and scoffed.

"Hmph. Maybe Benrath ain't cut out fer bein' Log-a-Log yet, but you certainly aren't either!"

"FUCK YOU!" Jurlick blurted out.

Still shaking and whimpering, Jurlick sniffled and wiped his eyes. He glanced over at Benrath and pointed at the two hares.

"I-I ain't finished with ye, Son of Log-a-Log! Th-those-those fuckin' 'ares ain't gonna be 'round forever! Ye jus' wait—jus'-jus' wait an' see wot 'appens once they're gone!"

Jurlick, crestfallen over everything that just happened, walked away from the colonels and Benrath as he sniffled. Jurlick's friends followed him without question, leaving Sanjoy, Clannin, and Benrath to themselves. Sanjoy put her rapier back in its sheath and sat down alongside Clannin.

"He's right, y'know. We ain't always gonna be 'ere t'save yore arse. So grow some stones an' stand up to 'em," said Clannin.

Benrath wasn't crying anymore, but he still wasn't happy over what just happened. After all, Jurlick was probably gonna tease or bully him tomorrow when Urthquake and his hares left.

"How?"

Sanjoy shrugged. "We ain't yore mum an' dad. Figure it out yoreself."

Sanjoy saw a shrew walk past them holding a bowl of hot soup. She flared her nostrils just once and could tell that it was the soup that had shrimp and fish chunks inside. She stood up, ready to go fill her distended belly with more vittles.

"C'mon, Clannin. Let's go try out that fish soup."

"All right."

The colonels got up and left Benrath alone. The young shrew sat by himself and thought about what he should do with Jurlick and all his friends. After all, he was a fully-grown beast now; he wasn't a babe anymore, and he certainly wasn't so dependent of his father. He knew he needed to confront Jurlick one day, but he just didn't know how to do it. As the shrew sat alone thinking, the scene close to Log-a-Log's raft was rife with laughter. Becker had lost his boxing match with Saron, and now the plump female hare had him pinned to the ground. More importantly, she pinned him down with her whole body, and her rump was planted on his face. Saronso looked down at Becker and grinned.

"You gonna stop sayin' I got sand up my 'ole?!"

Becker, somehow, managed to mumble and nod slightly beneath the hare's backside.

"You gonna stop runnin' yer mouth 'bout how great you are?!"

The stout hare nodded and mumbled again. Having Becker at her mercy like this was a lot more fun than Saron thought it'd be.

"You gonna stop stealin' all my vittles when I'm not lookin?!"

Becker didn't answer that time. He just lied there and pretended that he didn't hear Saron's question. So the hare promptly punched him in the groin, causing him to shout and jolt his legs.

"Is that a yes or no?!"

Becker answered again, mumbling the same word over and over as he tried to nod his head. Saronso chuckled as she mercifully removed her rump from Becker's face and stood up. The chubby hare exhaled as he quickly sat up and began to take deep breaths. And then he noticed that all the other hares and shrews around him were still laughing. Becker got to his footpaws and laughed timidly, his ears lowered slightly with embarrassment. His "arch nemesis" was still grinning smugly to herself as Becker tried to figure out what to say or do. But Becker, being Becker, decided to sweep everything under the rug and make light of the situation.

"Well now…s'pose I should be grateful yer bum is clean, wot!"

"So yer admittin' I won?"

"Yes…but _only_ 'cos there were no carrots in the soup! If there had been, I jolly well could've taken you, no questions asked! Carrots make you stronger, give you lots more strength an' muscles, wot!"

Saron heard all she needed to hear. "If you say so," she said, before walking away and intentionally bumping her shoulder into Becker's. As Becker was about to get more soup, Issarck chuckled and began to tease the captain.

"So how was it down there, Becker? Ya give her arse h'a nice, fat kiss?"

Becker scoffed. "Bah, at least her arse didn't 'ave a nasty stench to it! I'd much rather be under her rump than yers, fer example!"

Issarck started grinning. "So yore h'admittin' you like her arse."

Becker's ears lowered again and he practically started to sweat. While the shrews and hares stared at the self-conscious captain, Becker twiddled his thumbs and started to sidle away from the crowd.

"Y'know, I'm in the mood for some pears! You lot wait here; I'll go fetch some!"

The captain forced himself not to break into a sprint, and instead walked away from the group as fast as he could. But even as he gained distance from them, he could still hear a majority of the beasts laughing, more than likely talking about how much the hare was in love with Saron's behind, even though he clearly wasn't. When Becker finally arrived at a pear tree far away from the crowd, he sighed with much relief and relaxed himself. He knew his fellow soldiers would never let him live this down—not unless he got back at Saron in a much cruder way. The fat hare was about to start plotting when something bounced off his head. Becker looked down at the ground and could see that a few pear cores were lying in the dirt.

"Sorry 'bout that, Cap'n!"

The hare looked up in the tree and could see Honward sitting on a bough. He smiled as the sergeant began to pluck another pear from one of the smaller branches and tossed it down to Becker.

"No worries! Just a small bump on the noggin, wot!"

Honward and Becker stayed silent for an awkward length of time. The light brown hare continued to look for more pears in the tree whilst Becker stared at the fruit in his paw and took a huge bite out of it. It only took three bites before Becker finished the pear; instinctively, Honward tossed another pear down, as if he knew in advance that Becker had finished the first one. Becker noticed how quiet the two were being (short of Becker's loud munching) and sparked a conversation. He clearly didn't want to convey the little mishap that happened with Saronso, so he talked about a more serious conversation.

"Still thinkin' 'bout that rat Morson slew?"

"It's more'n just that. Jus' been reminiscin', that's all."

"About wot, the day you became a Sarn't an' glomped Urthquake's head 'til he had to pry you off, wot?"

Honward tried not to remember that glorious, if not embarrassing day. "Besides that. Things are jus' different, y'know? It ain't like all them stories my father used to tell me."

Becker chomped into a pear and spoke with a full mouth. "Never is. We always leave out all the gritty, nasty parts leverets don't wanna hear about. That's why we only go on 'bout how great it is: makes it easier fer us to suck 'em into the Long Patrol, wot!"

Honward grinned at Becker's brutal honesty as he tossed him another pear. "Still, after me an' Tike joined, it never seemed this—"

"Violent?"

Honward exhaled and scratched his head, trying to find the right word to explain how he felt. "Complicated."

Becker shrugged and filled his mouth with more of the juicy pear. "Wot's so complicated about it? There's vermin runnin' 'round Mossflower; we get rid of 'em so goodbeasts can live in peace. Sounds simple to me, wot!"

The sergeant plucked another pear from the tree and hopped off the bough, landing in front of Becker with a soft grunt. "All right, I guess I am thinkin' about wot happened this mornin'. An' that incident with the ferret expectin' a babe."

Honward shook his head and shrugged. "I guess it all hit me. Not as hard as it hit Tike, but still…I just…I dunno."

Becker could see that Honward didn't want to eat his pear. He nonchalantly took it from Hon's paw and replaced it with his pear core. "Jus' spill it, dear boy. Wot's on yore mind?"

Honward went ahead and said it. "You ever feel like we ain't doin' the right thing? Like we shouldn't be out slayin' all these beasts, wot?"

Becker bit into the pear. "Every damn day."

"So how d'you put up with it?"

"Simple," he said, his mouth full again. "I tell m'self that wot we're doin' is savin' lives. If a few dozen vermin have t'die in order fer that to happen, so be it, wot!"

Honward smirked. "Good thing you ain't talkin' to Tike right now."

"Why?"

"'Cos he'd be sayin' 'takin' lives ta save lives is the stupidest fuckin' thing anybeast could do.'"

Becker started to laugh, squirting a bit of pear juice from his mouth. "That he would, Hon! That he would, wot!"

Becker finished eating the pear and tossed it on the ground. "Mebbe Urthquake has changed over the seasons. Mebbe the Long Patrol has changed as well; I know I have, an' you will someday too. An' yes…I've done things I'm not proud of. But we're savin' beasts, Hon. There ain't as many pirates tryin' to sail up River Moss. We c'n walk for days without stumblin' across Skipper's otters or members of the Mossflower Squirrel Brigade scattered all over the ground, their entrails hangin' from their corpses. Hell, I can't even remember the last time somebeast tried to attack Redwall Abbey, wot! So wot we're doin' can't be all bad. We're doin' somethin' right, right?"

Honward nodded. "Right."

"No, left."

Honward raised an eyebrow. "Wot?"

"Three rights make a left."

Becker laughed as he watched Honward roll his eyes and shake his head. "Never was good at tellin' jokes, Becker."

"No shame in tryin'! Anyways, I'll see you later. Gotta make sure none o' them prickly beasts scoffed that shrimp'n'fish soup, wot!"

Honward smiled. "See ya!"

As Becker began to walk away, Honward bit down into his pear. And then he frowned. It wasn't until his teeth made contact with the hard core that he realized Becker ate the fruit without him even knowing.

* * *

While everything seemed to be fun and games for the Guosim and the Long Patrol, a different conversation was taking place within Log-a-Log's hut that had been built on his personal raft. There was nobeast inside at the moment except for Urthquake, the Shrew Chieftain, and Log-a-Log's second in command, a strong, sullen, dark brown shrew named Barlo Arvack. The two shrews fit into the large hut comfortably; Barlo and Log-a-Log had no problem standing within the structure. But Urthquake was sitting down, since his head would be touching the ceiling otherwise. He still managed to eat and have a decent conversation with the Shrew Chieftain, despite how cramped it was. As always, Log-a-Log was impressed with the badger's eating habits. Even after devouring two whole loaves of oat bread with cheese to go with it and chugging two beakers of shrewbeer, the Badger Lord still had enough room in his stomach for three bowls of the vegetable soup that was boiling outside. Log-a-Log watched as the badger downed his third bowl and licked some of the broth from his lips, gulping so hard that Log-a-Log saw a lump travel down his throat.

"Nice ter see yore appetite's still strong like a Northlander!"

Urthquake set the bowl down and sighed, satisfied now that his stomach was full. "Nice to see you Guosim still know how to make a decent meal."

The Shrew Chieftain laughed to himself before finishing off his strawberry and blackberry cordial. "Guess I 'ave yore hares an' their cookin' skills t'thank fer that! How is ole Salaman-so-an'-so doin' anyways?"

"I didn't leave the front gate open, if that's what you're asking."

Urthquake was always strange when around Log-a-Log. He seemed to speak with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, as though he were slyly insulting the plump shrew with every word that came from his mouth. And he never could tell if Log-a-Log took any of it seriously, because he always seemed to guffaw over it. Even now the burly shrew was laughing so much that his giant belly shook, despite the fact Urthquake was being serious.

"Hahahahaaaaa! Yo-yore gonna be the death of me, Urthquake! One o' these days, I may jus' laugh m'self t'death!"

Urthquake didn't respond. Barlo didn't either; the second in command was still standing in the corner of the hut while his Chieftain sat down in a chair with his food utensils and various crumbs scattered across the table in front of him. The shrew burped rudely before he wiped his mouth off with his arm and sniffed.

"Now then, enough with all this frivolous chatter! May as well get t'the brunt of the matter."

"Which is what?"

"The fact that yore not doin' enough t'make Mossflower a better country!"

Urthquake flared his nostrils and blinked, but he didn't raise his voice. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Oh sure, you an' yer hares did a great job takin' care o' them vermin stealin' from us, but not fast enough. We lost a few shrews, 'member? Ole Barlo back there lost 'is own cousin."

Urthquake scooted a little closer to Log-a-Log Brugo and his table. He started to raise his voice now.

"Let me remind you that _we_ were the ones who took care of your problem. A lieutenant of mine got wounded in the process. And while one beast might say he deserved it, that doesn't change the fact that he was wounded doing something for _you_, Brugo. And let me also remind you that you're talking to a Badger Lord, so watch the way you speak to me."

Brugo could almost feel the anger bubbling within Urthquake. He was trying to hide it, but all Log-a-Log had to do was glance up into the badger's blue eyes—which he could've sworn were turning a little red—to see that he was getting agitated. The Shrew Chieftain smiled cheesily and laughed nervously.

"Of-of course, sah! Ye are the leader of that mountain we know an' love! Mayhaps I should, err, rephrase wot I've been sayin'!"

Urthquake settled down and blinked. "Perhaps you should."

Brugo rubbed his big belly and heard it gurgle a few times. He scratched the back of his head and put his footpaws up on the table, moments before he started to grin.

"When ye get 'ungry an' come across a river, wot d'ye do?"

"Fish."

"Precisely. But there's no one set o' fish in the river, y'see! Big fish, small fish, sick fish, fish that can swallow ye 'ole…well, ye get wot I'm sayin'! But wot is the one fish ye always try t'catch first?"

"The big one that isn't trying to eat me."

The Guosim Chieftain laughed again. "That's right!"

Urthquake growled and blinked. "I'm not in the mood for your metaphors. What are you saying?"

Log-a-Log stopped playing games with the badger. "Fer awhile now, you an' yer hares 'ave been goin' after the little fish! Yore lettin' the big ones slip away an' spendin' too much time on all these tiny fish that don't fill ye up at all! Wot ye need is a big fish t'feed yerself with!"

"But I'm a badger. I eat more than other beasts do. My hunger is only sated when I've eaten _all_ the fish, big and small."

"Oh, ye can't do that. Wot if ye get 'ungry again later on? Then you'll stumble across the river an' realize ye ate all the damn fish! Hehehe, no, wot ye need t'do is eat the big fish _now_, leave the small ones alone! Don't worry 'bout them; when ye get 'ungry again, ye'll come back to the river an' discover that all those little fish ye ignored have grown big an' fat, jus' fer ye t'feast on 'em!"

Urthquake didn't know what to say. He just stared at the Guosim Chieftain and his sinister grin. He could tell that the beast was being serious now, but the Badger Lord couldn't seriously consider following this advice. He'd be trapped in an endless loop of feasting until he had died of old age, and his successor would end up making the same mistakes as him. No, he simply could not allow that to happen. The Badger Lord needed to cleanse the river of all the fish he found, no matter what size or shape they were. Then, and only then, would Urthquake be able to find peace with himself.

"I understand," he said, lying right to Brugo's face. "I don't suppose you have any 'big fish' for me to find?"

Log-a-Log took his footpaws off the table. "It jus' so 'appens that I do! Two, in fact! Ye remember Kurwin the Flayer, right?"

There was no need to ask. Urthquake could still see those mutilated corpses hanging from the trees with flies buzzing around them. Every now and then the stench of those skinless mice, squirrels, hedgehogs, and even voles seemed to fill his nose.

"Don't tell me that monster is heading for Redwall?"

Brugo scoffed. "Monster? He's jus' some washed-up corsair who's stuck on land! Scouts o' mine found two of his ships jus' lyin' on the beach! They told me the beach were abandoned, so I'm assumin' that he's roamin' through Mossflower as we speak."

"Do your scouts know where he and his pirates were heading?"

"Sadly, no. It was too hard t'track all them beasts. Still, Kurwin's stuck in Mossflower; if'n his own corsairs don't kill each other, then you, the MSB, Skipper's otters, or a bunch o' ravenous birds will! Hah, with any luck, they'll run into a buncha toads or the Red Sand tribe!"

Urthquake did not like the Red Sand tribe any more than he liked the Painted Ones or the Flitchaye. At best, they were a different version of the Painted Ones located around deserted beaches. At worst, they were bloodthirsty beasts resurrected straight from the Hellgates, whose only goal was to cover the sand and soil they walked on with the blood of their victims. The Badger Lord tried not to think about them; they were just another fish he would consume later on.

"So what about this other 'fish' you know about?"

Log-a-Log grinned smugly. "Now I _know_ ye know who Blackheart is."

Urthquake's eyes grew wide. "You found him," he said, with excitement as well as fury.

Brugo knew that the Badger Lord would be pleased to hear that. "Aye! Got a fortress set up on the Western Coast. Jus' 'ead northwest from the river; y'can't miss it!"

Urthquake scoffed. "Finally…I can get rid of that sorry excuse for a beast and set all those slaves free. Is the fortress finished?"

"Can't say, never seen it fer m'self."

"Then how do you know it's up there?"

"'Cos two of my scouts saw it, an' they got captured in the process. Only one of 'em came back, an' that's only 'cos he got lucky an' managed to escape at night!"

Urthquake took a deep breath and scratched behind his left ear as he looked down at Log-a-Log. He still wasn't really excited or happy about the information he just heard. The Shrew Chieftain frowned and exhaled with frustration.

"I just told you about a ferret warlord from the Northlands who thinks he's some Badrang wannabe an' is goin' around kidnappin' goodbeasts an' turnin' 'em inter slaves. I also told ye about a corsair who likes t'go around cuttin' the fur an' skin right off his victims. Shouldn't ye be 'appy about all this?"

"Y'know, everytime we have these talks and you tell me about all these vermin you just so happen to know about, I never do question just _how_ you know about 'em all, or just _how_ you keep finding them for me."

Urthquake and Log-a-Log stared at each other for nearly an entire minute in silence before the blue-striped badger became irritated.

"Is there something you need to tell me?"

Brugo shut his eyes and smiled a deadly smile that should only be on a fox's face. "We do things, Urthquake. The Guosim contributes its fair share to Mossflower. We help you; we help the Long Patrol—"

"You're not answering the question," the badger interrupted.

Log-a-Log kept going. "All in all, we help this vast forest, keep it safe from harm! Why in the world would we try to or even think—"

"You are still not answering the question," Urthquake growled.

Brugo huffed. "We're both Northlanders, ole friend. We both grew up in a harsh an' dreary environment. And in order to survive in the Northlands, ye had t'do…questionable acts in order t'get things done, t'breathe fer another day. But in the end, we got things done, so why should it matter _wot_ we did to reach our goal?"

Log-a-Log was still smiling in a disgustingly smug way. Urthquake knew how the bulky shrew was. He never gave him a straight answer; he always had to talk in riddles and use exaggerated metaphors and analogies just to make a lewd comparison to something. But the Badger Lord was smart. He could tell by the shrew's dirty smile that he was telling him to shut up and look the other way. But Urthquake had been doing that for many seasons now; this was the first time Urthquake actually asked him straight to his face how he acquired his information. And Log-a-Log's reply wasn't just "shut up an' look the other way." It was "stop askin' questions, or ye may find yerself in the Dark Forest." Maybe Urthquake was overthinking the situation. Maybe not. But he knew Log-a-Log was hiding something. Nevertheless, there was no need to pry into the situation this very second. He had to let it play out; he needed to see where Log-a-Log's loyalties really lie.

"You're right. I suppose I should be grateful for everything you've done for me. My apologies."

"No harm done, friend!"

"But someday, you _are_ gonna have to tell me where you get all this information from."

Log-a-Log huffed. "Well, I'd tell ye now, but then I'd 'ave t'slay yer."

Urthquake could tell by Brugo's exaggerated glance and cheesy grim face that the shrew was just joking. He waited for the Chieftain to break out into a fit of laughter—which he did—and then watched as he extended his right paw forward.

"I'm jus' foolin' with ye!"

The Badger Lord nodded and shook Log-a-Log's paw. As they shook paws, Log-a-Log started to frown. Then he winced and whimpered as Urthquake squeezed. Hard. The Shrew Chieftain looked up at Urthquake and noticed that his head was a bit too close to his, and that a very nasty grin was on the blue-striped creature's muzzle.

"Of course you are."

The badger knew how to play games too. This "pawshake" was a warning to the Chieftain. Log-a-Log knew how strong Urthquake was. He knew what happened when he was consumed with the Bloodwrath. So the badger decided to casually remind the shrew how much stronger he was. More importantly, he wanted to let the shrew know that if Log-a-Log tried anything, _he_ would be the one to die. Barlo, for the very first time, moved. He turned and faced Log-a-Log and Urthquake. He was starting to reach for his rapier when Urthquake finally let go of Log-a-Log's paw. Brugo exhaled and started to rub his paw as it throbbed in pain. Log-a-Log wasn't grinning or smirking anymore. He was looking at Urthquake with a hint of fear in his eyes. Urthquake continued to stare at the Guosim Chieftain with a nasty smile on his face before he got up and left the hut, crouching down so he could get through the doorframe. Barlo lowered his paw and walked beside the burly shrew to see if he was okay.

"Wot was that all about, Chief?"

Log-a-Log Brugo stopped rubbing his paw and went back to grinning smugly to himself, as though the incident with Urthquake never even occurred.

"Nothin'! Nothin' at all!"


	6. Both Sides

**VI**

**Both Sides**

Cheering could be heard throughout the area. It was a glorious sound, the sound of over threescore beasts roaring with pride, the sound of beasts expressing how rapt they were over the situation. Kindbeasts hated the sound and would find it to be dreadful. But Fleckle Mard basked in it all, because they were all cheering for him, for what he had done. Everybeast could see him now, standing on top of a large rock, grinning deviously as he carried a pike in his right paw. And on top of that pike was Ferrin Rord's severed head, the blood still dripping from the wound and sliding down the weapon. Fleckle wanted everybeast to see how pathetic the weasel was. They wanted their last image of him to be his defiled head, with an eye gouged out and the ears cut off. All in all, he wanted everybeast to know that Ferrin Rord was dead.

"Fleckle Mard! Juskamard! Fleckle Mard! Juskamard!"

Everybeast was still cheering his name, still worshipping him like he was the almighty leader of a horde that conquered all of the Northlands. The burly stoat planted the pike down into the soil, desperately forcing himself not to mutilate Ferrin's skull even further. He took his sword—or rather, Ferrin's sword—out of his sheath very slowly. Then the beast held the weapon up in the air, so high that it seemed to shine even though the sky was filled with clouds. All the rugged beasts with black or blue marks around their bodies stared at Mard and the weapon he carried. He seemed much taller now, much more confident about his new role in the Juska clan.

"The time for change has come, warriors! Fer too long we've sat here, growin' old an' fat an' lazy! Fer too long we've been yelled at an' had t'live under this…this demented creature's wrath!"

Kurwin wasn't standing far from Fleckle. The large stoat was tempted to turn around and ask him if the word "demented" was used correctly, but since everybeast was still staring him and ready to cheer again, he kept talking.

"How many times have we been slaves ta this…this _thing_ here?! How many times have we been beaten, been kicked, had Rord's footpaw put on our throats fer no reason?! Our Seer has seen visions—terrible ones, ones that end with all of us at the Hellgates! An' you wanna know who led us there? Our 'great' and 'glorious' Ferrin Rord!"

Fleckle paused so he could let his troops soak in all the information. Fleckle learned a thing or two after being around Ferrin for so long. And one of them was that the beasts in a Juska clan always believed in the Seers, even if what they said was completely fabricated. Fleckle laughed evilly and shook his head.

"So once I learned that our great leader would be sendin' us all to our deaths, I decided to act! That beast we used to call our leader—he didn't deserve this sword! All the blood he shed with this precious weapon—it only happened 'cos of us! Rord was nothin' without us! An' now that he is no longer of this world, we can finally move on, get back to doing great things with our lives, an' become the greatest Juska tribe in the history of Mossflower!"

Kurwin couldn't stop grinning toothily to himself as the Juska tribe cheered Fleckle's name again. He was starting to like him more and more as he spoke to his tribe. In some ways, they were both the same. Fleckle was just some small-time vermin who desperately wanted more in his life. The only difference was that Fleckle had to kill his former leader to get to where he was now. And Fleckle wasn't smart enough to realize that all of the soldiers he was in charge of now would probably end up at the Hellgates anyway. But that just made the situation better. Being dumb and willfully ignorant made it easier to ignore some of the harshness of reality.

"But we can't do it alone warriors! Hehehe, no, we're gonna need help from my good friend here, Kurwin the Flayer!"

That was the cue for Fleckle to step aside for a brief moment so the ferret could climb onto the rock as well. The two leaders stood beside each other in front of all their vermin, waiting for one of them to start giving new orders. It wasn't hard for Kurwin to speak to this group. Anybeast who was friends with the beast who slew Ferrin Rord couldn't be all bad. Kurwin laughed as he started to wag his tail.

"Well now, seems like my new friend here got everythin' covered! I'm gonna make this brief an' simple: anybeast that wants to leave, feel free ter walk away an' spend the rest of your lives lookin' over yer shoulder, hopin' some woodland critter don't fuck you up the arse! But if ya wanna be free an' finally gain control of this country, then say aye!"

"AYE!"

It wasn't hard. It never was. All vermin needed was somebeast to tell them to do this or do that, and they'd do it. The fact that Fleckle and Kurwin were so benevolent and charismatic made it considerably easy for them to win over a crowd. Before everybeast broke out into another cheer, Kurwin held up his paws and continued to talk.

"Good! Glad t'hear yer all onboard with our plans! But we can't begin our quest of destruction just yet! Before we can get started, we have to pay our good ole friend Log-a-Log a visit!"

All the Juskamard members frowned or stared at Kurwin and Fleckle with wide eyes. The only beast who cheered was the burly fat one who spoke simple English. After realizing that he was the only beast cheering, he lowered his spear and glanced at his tribe members curiously.

"Wot? Why Jenrik only beast who cheer?"

* * *

Log-a-Log's trackers could tell that the enemy was coming. They couldn't identify their exact location, but several beasts were walking through the woods, exposing themselves with the torches they had lit. Since it was in the middle of the night now and some of Log-a-Log's shrews were sleeping, all the trackers woke everybeast up and they started to prepare themselves. Everybeast acquired their rapiers, bows and arrows, spears, slings, and any other weapon they carried and took their position near the river. The beasts intended to try the same ambush as before—and hopefully it would work this time, provided Benrath didn't give away their hiding spots. So most of the shrews hid in the bushes, crouching down or lying in the mud, using it to conceal themselves. Others pressed their backs against the alder trees, clutching their rapiers or spears as they breathed softly and made little noise. The vermin were getting closer; all the shrews could hear their footsteps getting louder, and their torches illuminated their presence even more. All the shrews had to do now was wait for the vermin to get close.

Kurwin's crew, as well as the new Juskamard tribe, was fully aware of how calm it was around the river. Some of the beasts were too busy chatting with each other or drinking some of the wine they purloined from the late Ferrin Rord's tent, but something was definitely off about the situation. The dozens and dozens of vermin could hear crickets chirping in the distance and knew some kind of bird was flapping its wings in the canopy. The soil they walked upon was soft, nothing more than a clear path that led straight for the river. All the alder trees around them were beginning to fully bloom now that it was spring; some of them already grew all their leaves back. The vermin could hear the water sloshing quietly along the river. The fresh, cool, nighttime air had been tainted by their presence; now the air reeked of beasts who hadn't bathed in weeks, seasons even. Even if Log-a-Log's trackers hadn't seen their torches, it was impossible to ignore the heavy stench that lingered around the group, and the large pawprints they left in the soil. In hindsight, some of the vermin realized they were a walking target should they be ambushed by the MSB.

Most of the trackers were on alert, but it was still hard for them to see since the moon wasn't full tonight. All they had were the stars and their torches. And to top all that off, Longfang was still distracted over Dead-Eye's death. He wasn't exactly lamenting (although Bloodeye teased him when he saw the tracker tearing up at his "funeral"), but he did seem genuinely hurt by his passing. Sometimes the rat questioned whether or not beasts like him and Turvin were even valuable to the group. The only reason why Dead-Eye even got a burial was because Longfang went through the effort to bring him back to camp. And now that Kurwin's crew had more allies on their side, everybeast seemed to brush off Dead-Eye's passing rather quickly.

"Hey, d'you hear that?" asked Turvin.

Longfang stopped pondering so much and blinked. "Wot?"

"Stop walkin' an' be quiet."

Longfang did as he was told. All the other trackers looked around the woods, sniffing the air and checking to see if anything was out of the ordinary. The trackers were busy looking for any strange anomaly when they heard loud footsteps coming towards them. Then they heard somebeast's belly sloshing around and turned to face the oversized Juskamard member carrying a huge spear.

"Why stop? Wot problem?"

"There's somethin' wrong here…feels like we're walkin'—"

"CAP'N! Logboats in the river!" shouted Slipfoot.

All of the vermin instantly got on alert, grabbing the hilts of their cutlasses or other weapons they carried along with them. Traegar and Kurwin rushed towards the edges of the river and could see that not only were there abandoned logboats, but campfires as well. No blood had been shed, and no weapons were lying on the ground; clearly the shrews were hiding.

"Hmph, idiots just left 'em right there fer other beasts ta steal!" said a Juskamard tracker.

Kurwin let down his guard and grinned widely. He knew how Log-a-Log Brugo acted; any ordinary vermin would see the logboats and consider it to be a free ride down the river. And right when a beast stepped towards the boats, they'd get an arrow to the back. But Kurwin was smarter than that, and so were his pirates. Fleckle, unfortunately, was not. Once the new leader of the Juska clan rushed to the river and saw the boats, he snickered to himself and started to walk forward.

"Abandoned logboats, eh? C'mon, friend! Wot're ya doin' just standin' around? Let's take 'em an' sail down the river 'til we find this shrew ya mentioned!"

"I would advise against that."

Fleckle looked at Kurwin with a raised eyebrow. "Why?"

"'Cos ye'll get an arrow up yer arse if'n you set yer grimy footpaws near them logboats!"

Fleckle turned around and shouted before he took out his cutlass. A female shrew with a large nose and gray headband on was carrying a bow and arrow, the arrow notched and aimed right for Fleckle's lower region. The other vermin were taken by surprise before they even noticed. One moment, they were all alone. The next, well over fifty shrews had appeared from the trees and bushes, all pointing their bow and arrows, rapiers, slings, and whatever weapons they had at the vermin. Most of the vermin in Kurwin's crew looked at all the shrews with wide eyes as their hearts began to beat fast. But the Juskamard tribe all took out their weapons and prepared themselves for battle in case the shrews attacked. Argyle, the fox with markings all over his face, looked at Kurwin and growled.

"You led us right to 'em ya fuckin' idjit!"

Kurwin scoffed. "Course I did. I said we was gonna visit Log-a-Log, and now here we are. So where is the ole frog-walloper?!" the ferret shouted.

Argyle glanced at Kurwin and raised an eyebrow. "Frog-walloper?"

The leaves in one of the alder trees moved, and everybeast looked up to see another shrew who was bigger than all the rest sticking his head out the canopy. He looked down at the ground and saw the heavily-scarred ferret looking back up at him with his trademark grin.

"Kurwin? Is that you ole friend?"

"Who else would it be?"

A wide smile appeared on Log-a-Log Brugo's face as he laughed heartily and began to climb down the tree. "Ye ole salty varmint! Put ye weapons down, shrews; you all know who Kurwin an' his pirates are!"

The female shrew with an arrow pointed at Fleckle's groin snorted. "Wot about this'n? He ain't part of Kurwin's crew—look at all them marks on his body!"

Kurwin turned and faced the female shrew. "Fleckle here is the new leader of the Juskamard tribe. He an' his tribe are travelin' with us; he's a _very_ good friend of mine. So it would be wise to lower that bow, shrew."

Log-a-Log reached the ground, grunting when he hopped off a tree branch and landed with a loud thud. "Go on, Reina! Put it down. Alla yah, lower ye weapons!" the Shrew Chieftain bellowed.

Despite not liking some (if not most) of the vermin, the shrews never defied a Shrew Chieftain's orders unless they had a good reason. And so far none of the vermin had attacked, so they saw no reason to write them off as a threat. Once the shrews put their weapons down, Fleckle looked at his tribe and gestured for them to do the same. When everybeast had calmed down, Brugo walked over to Kurwin laughing again.

"C'mere an' give ye good friend Log-a-Log a hug!"

Kurwin grunted when the shrew reached forward and hugged the ferret much tighter than he anticipated. If Brugo was any taller, he would've been able to pick Kurwin right off the ground. But the ferret embraced the burly shrew as well until they eventually took their arms away.

"Hehehe, ye've certainly got a lot uglier since last I saw ya! Wot's that, another new scar on yer face?"

"Two," said Kurwin, running a claw along his snout. He could still briefly remember the day a traitorous searat nearly sliced his nose right off.

"Heh, no surprise there considerin' all the danger you get into!"

Kurwin changed the subject. "I see you've gotten…" Kurwin stared at the shrew and noticed he seemed a bit portly. "Err…wider."

The blowhard shrew laughed again as he patted his large frame. "T'ain't nothin' t'be ashamed of!"

"But how are you gonna hide from yer enemies when they can spot that fat arse of yours?"

Log-a-Log grinned. "No need! If my enemies stink as much as you do, I'll spot ye long before you can find me arse!"

Kurwin chuckled. "As much as I'd love ta stand 'ere talkin' about yer round bottom, I've got more important things to discuss with you."

"Oh? Hehe, yes, all right then! Step into my hut; there's lots we should talk about!"

As Kurwin and Log-a-Log began to walk away, the scarred ferret looked back at his corsairs and Fleckle's tribe and snickered.

"Don't just stand there mates! You're guests of the Guosim; feel free to make yerselves as 'comfortable' as possible!"

As the two beasts entered Log-a-Log's hut, the rest of the Guosim stared at the large vermin army with wide eyes. Something told them that they weren't going to enjoy this night…

* * *

The vermin, unsurprisingly, were nowhere near as kind or as civil as Urthquake and his hares were. While the hares weren't exactly pristine and didn't have the table manners of a Redwaller, at least none of them broke out into a huge fight (short of the squabble between Becker and Saronso). Some of the vermin started punching or wrestling each other just because somebeast swiped their slice of cheese. The vermin were pretty disgusting as well, belching, passing gas, scratching their groins, and spitting on the ground just because they felt like it. Not all of Log-a-Log's shrews despised Kurwin's army, but at the same time, they couldn't help but look at all these pirates and see nothing more than oversized Dibbuns in need of a good bath and spanking. It didn't help that they ate as much as the Long Patrol either, wolfing down anything that seemed remotely delicious. Some vermin, such as Bloodeye and Ishlin, were picky eaters who only ate food that tasted sweet or had some kind of flesh on it. All of the nutritional fruits and vegetables they were offered were either tossed on the ground or spat from their mouths.

The Guosim didn't have the same meal this time. Instead of the soup made with fish chunks and shrimp, they roasted several birds and fish over a huge campfire. Instead of strawberry and blackberry cordial, the vermin drank shrewbeer and seaweed grog. Only the shrews drank the milk they had, and only a score of pirates ate any berries. For the most part, all the vermin ate was the nutbread, any cheeses the shrews offered, the birds and fish, certain berries and apples, and vegetables like onions or carrots. All they drank was the fiery seaweed grog and the shrewbeer, leaving the rest of the food for the shrews to consume. What used to be a peaceful night was plagued with the raucous sounds of drunken vermin fighting each other and singing. And a majority of the shrews had noticed it, and were slowly getting agitated about it. But all the prickly beasts simply grinned or joked alongside the pirates and Juskamard tribe, knowing they'd get their comeuppance eventually. Blowhorn had just finished shoveling the rest of a huge chunk of fish into his mouth when he gulped hard and exhaled. Bloodeye glanced at the gulping rat and snickered.

"I'm impressed with you, Blowhorn! You ate a whole meal without openin' up that gate you call an arsehole!"

Blowhorn snickered as he reached over and swiped a container of milk off the ground. "That's all gonna change after I drink this! Gonna end up fartin' out blood in my sleep tonight!"

"The only thing comin' out yore ass will be brown an' lumpy. We all know that!"

A couple of the vermin around the campfire laughed while Blowhorn started to drink the milk so he could fuel his rotten stomach. The Guosim brewer, Kallin, was sitting beside a very foul-smelling stoat whose odor almost made him gag. The shrew wearing a blue headband sniffed and scowled as he looked over at the stoat.

"Huh, so that's why you all call 'im Blowhorn. And I s'pose everybeast calls you 'Stinky'?"

The stoat chuckled as he sliced off part of an apple with a knife and put it inside his mouth. "Nope! Stinkfoot actually. No need to ask why they call me that!"

Kallin could already smell the stoat's footpaws from where he sat, so he decided against it. "Aren't you that burly captain who kept stealin' me beer, err…Ishlin, was it?"

"No, _that's_ Ishlin," said Stinkfoot as he pointed at a different light brown stoat.

"Oh, gotcha," said a short shrew sitting beside Kallin. "An' the weasel sittin' over there is Plaskin, yeah?"

"No, _that's_ Plaskin! That weasel's Traegar; I don't see how you blokes keep forgettin' our names!"

"How the 'ell are we s'posed to keep track?! There's so many of you vermin 'round here that we'd need to write all ye names down in a book!" said Kallin.

"Then maybe you should start writin'," sneered Bloodeye.

A couple of foxes laughed while Kallin sighed and shook his head. "Fine. But 'tween you and all them hares, memorizin' all ye names is gonna be aggravatin'!"

All the vermin sitting around the campfire stopped eating their food and stared at the two shrews. Kallin realized he said something wrong and stared at all the corsairs with wide eyes. Stinkfoot sliced off another apple chunk and stuffed it into his mouth before staring at Kallin.

"Wot hares?"

Kallin scratched his head. "Erm, y-y'know!"

"No, we don't."

"Of course ye do! We're the Guosim mates; we spend all our lives patrollin' the rivers an' banks! Every now and then, we stop at this village filled with hares! Farmers 'n' such; they, uh, they got a large field by the river so they can plant crops and go fishin' as well! Everytime we go there and stop fer food, we usually get bombarded by all those long-eared beasts! So…so yeah, the hares are farmers, not warriors or anythin'. It's not like—"

The shrew Kallin was sitting beside elbowed him so hard that he grunted and spilled some of the shrewbeer from his flask. Stinkfoot kept staring at the brewer, blinking and wondering if the shrew would slip up and say something he shouldn't. But eventually, he grinned and sliced off another chunk of the apple.

"Sounds like a nice place. You and yore Chieftain should show this 'farm' to our captain. Mayhaps one night we'll plunder the farm of its food whilst these hares are sleepin'."

"An' while we're at it, we can force ourselves into 'em all an' cut out their entrails!"

Stinkfoot blinked and stared at Bloodeye. "Or we can just steal their food."

"Or we can jus' kill 'em all!"

"Wot for? Wot's the point in killin' a buncha helpless hares? It ain't fun anyway, slayin' somebeast who can't put up a fight. 'Sides, it's much more fun t'steal all their vittles under their noses without 'em even knowin' wot hit 'em."

Bloodeye bit into part of the roasted bird he was feasting on and talked with his mouth full. "Says you! Hmph, no point in leavin' a precious li'l long-eared beast unharmed unless I slide my cock into her first!"

Kallin closed his eyes and sighed heavily, glad he didn't accidentally reveal that Urthquake and the Long Patrol paid them all a visit not even two days ago. After the brief silence, Razzik, who had been quiet for most of the time, glanced at Kallin and blinked.

"So, uh, y-you guys run into a lotta different species during yore travels?" he asked.

"Yah. Why?" asked the other shrew.

Razzik rubbed his right arm. "How often do you see lizards?"

Some of the vermin around the campfire groaned, especially Bloodeye. The irritated fox tossed the scraps of his roasted bird on the ground and snorted.

"If you mention those fuckin' monitors again…"

"It's only a question, Bloodeye. It won't hurt him to ask," said Stinkfoot.

"It will once I cut his tongue out fer not lettin' this shit go!"

The shrews ignored the red-eyed fox. "We've seen 'em a couple times. Wot about 'em?"

Razzik paused for a moment. "Well, did they seem hostile or anythin'? Or large?"

Kallin shook his head. "Not really. Most of 'em was tiny li'l things, and those that weren't were skinny an' not that much taller'n us. Couple of 'em were bandits that tried to steal from us, but that's wot our good ole rapiers are for."

"How far inland could they travel?"

"It's spring mate! Them lizards could be anywhere in these woods! All they really need is to figure out a way t'stay warm durin' the winter and lizards may as well spend the rest of their lives here."

"So…it _is_ possible for, um, for monitor lizards to…well, live here?"

Kallin chuckled. "I hope not! I heard a lotta stories about those monitors—the last thing this country needs is a buncha bloodthirsty cannibals runnin' wild and rippin' the woods to shreds!"

"…How fast do they repopulate?"

Kallin stared at Razzik seriously. "Did somethin' happen with you guys and these so-called monitor lizards?"

Blowhorn chuckled after he finished chugging more milk. "It's prob'ly nothin'! We lost some pirates a few days ago an' Razzik was there when it happened. He's still torn-up about it all, an' these monitor lizards were apparently the ones who did 'em all in."

"We haven't seen any monitor lizards since then, so we don't know for sure wot happened. All we know is that we lost a little over a dozen corsairs," said Stinkfoot.

"All we know is that Razzik is a whiny li'l crybaby who wets hisself whenever he has to face his enemy up close an' personal! Can't ever stand up wit yore balls hangin' out, can you? Always gotta take the enemy from behind!" said Bloodeye.

"You know, I remember this strange tale about a young fox who cried like a Dibbun an' literally kissed the footpaws of his enemy after they kidnapped him an' held him prisoner on their pirate ship…" started Stinkfoot.

Stinkfoot and Bloodeye stared at each other for a while. Bloodeye's grin was no longer on his face. He was frowning now as he stared at the stoat. But Stinkfoot, on the other hand, was grinning as widely as possible and showing off all his serrated yellow teeth.

"Would you like to hear it, Bloodeye?"

"Fuck you, Stinkfoot," said the fox, as he stood up and walked away.

The group of vermin around the campfire managed to eat their meal in peace now. Blowhorn even managed to keep his bottom under control (although that would all change once he went to sleep). While Bloodeye was busy walking away from Stinkfoot and the rest of the vermin, some of Kurwin's crew and the Juskamard tribe were all crowding around Traegar so they could hear his epic tale about his fight against Merle. Only Dirtfoot, Longfang, and Kronno were there; the rest of the vermin were from the Juskamard tribe.

"So how was it, eh? You take yore time with the squirrel or wot?" asked Argyle.

Traegar sighed and shook his head. "Didn't see the point! It was exhaustin' slayin' that long-tailed beast! Wouldn't stop hoppin' up and down the branches, arrows kept flyin' at my face—the jumpy li'l fucker just would not _stop_ movin'. Heh…but I got 'im eventually."

"Lost a tracker in the process though. D'you forget about that?"

"No, Dirtfoot, I'm fully aware that we lost somebeast. I was there, remember?"

"Oh right…that eye patch ferret, yeah?" asked Jarron.

"Aye, that 'eye patch ferret' who we all called Dead-Eye," said Longfang.

Argyle shook his head. "Shame when that happens, ain't it? Shit, the two of us were talkin' just after he won that sniffin' contest I got him involved in. Kinda wish I got t'know him more 'afore he was sent to the Hellgates."

Kronno shrugged. "He was a tracker with one eye. Wot else is there t'say about 'im?"

"A buncha shit, if you lot bothered to pay attention to him!" shouted Longfang.

"Didn't he use that nose of his—"

"I'm not talkin' about that otter story, Argyle. Just…other stuff. Like that his real name was Slizzo. Or that strawberries gave 'im a rash on his neck. Me an' Dead-Eye—we were mates, really good mates. Always been nice to each other, always had each other's backs, along with Turvin's, always took care of each other—"

"Always fucked each other," Dirtfoot blurted out.

Argyle snickered. "Really now? Didn't know Dead-Eye went both ways!"

"He didn't, and we didn't," snarled Longfang.

Kronno scoffed as she sat down beside Trae. "Yew act like that's such a bad thing mate! It ain't like me an' Sheeka 'aven't 'ad our share o' fun once in a while."

Argyle suddenly turned and faced the female black fox. "You? Fuckin' another female fox? Hehehe, now _that_ is a story you need to tell me sometime!"

"I ain't gonna sit 'ere an' explain that t'yew. Last thing I need is yew gettin' hard an' strokin' yerself right in front o' me."

Dirtfoot could see that Longfang was getting agitated. He was licking the underside of one of his fangs again. So the filthy rat decided to take a jab at him, like he always did.

"So how'd he do you, Longfang? D'you take it up the arse or did he? Or did he stick that fat cock in yer mouth?"

"We did not fuck each other!"

"Oh. So he just groped you a few times, an' you guys watched each other choke yer cocks on occasion."

Longfang closed his eyes and sighed heavily as he tried to ignore the annoying rat who was unfortunately much more important in Kurwin's crew than he was. He opened his eyes after pondering for a moment and licked the underside of his left fang.

"Mangoes."

Traegar blinked. "What?"

Longfang chuckled. "It was so fuckin' silly that day. We were eatin' red apples and I kept complainin' that I was sick an' tired of eating the hard fruit. So Dead-Eye told me about this fruit called a mango. It's this, I dunno, this strange, roundish-shaped fruit that grows on trees. They're firm an' large an' plump an' delicious an' they smell so sweet. Dead-Eye went on an' on, tellin' me about this fruit an' how they grew on this small island he knew about somewhere in the Western Sea. Maybe it was near Sampetra, I'm not sure. But he said this island was beautiful, an' filled with this mango fruit. Then we joked an' said that maybe one day, we could both just…y'know, get away from all this pirate shit, spend the rest of our lives on that island, get fat off them mangoes, get drunk on grog, an' watch the sunset together every day."

Longfang paused and suddenly stopped smiling. Nobeast said anything for a while; Longfang blinked as he shifted his footpaws around in the soil for a moment.

"I never seen a mango before…never held one, never smelled one, never tasted one. An' Dead-Eye never told me how to get to this island, so there goes my one an' only chance at tryin' t'find one…"

"…Mangoes, huh?" asked Dirtfoot.

Longfang nodded slowly. "I know it sounds stupid, but you had t'be there. So no, Dirtfoot, I wasn't fuckin' him, and he weren't fuckin' me. The two of us just knew what the concept of being a true mate was. An' let's face it: we're vermin. How often do we come across a fellow fox or a fellow ferret or a fellow rat who _won't_ try to stab us in the back?"

"I see…I see wot you mean now. You an' Dead-Eye had a 'special' relationship. Not like lovers, but brothers. I really am sorry that you lost somebeast so close to you."

Traegar started to scowl at the rat. This wasn't Dirtfoot. He was being a snide cur yet again. The weasel could already feel the axe hovering over somebeast's head; he was just waiting for it to fall. Unfortunately, it fell on his head. Dirtfoot turned to face him and snorted.

"But it is not I who should be apologizing to you, Longfang. After all, _Traegar_ here was the one who got Dead-Eye killed! It's 'cos of you that poor ole Longfang here'll never get to taste his precious, scrumptious mangoes! You owe this searat an apology!"

Kronno huffed and rubbed her forehead. "Fer fuck's sake, Dirtfoot—"

"No, he's right. I do owe Longfang an apology."

The black rat with his long yellow fangs stared at Traegar and blinked. "I'm listenin'."

"I'm sorry, Longfang…it was my fault that Dead-Eye got slain. If I hadn't gotten into that argument with Dirtfoot, I'm sure that arrow woulda hit him in the eye instead."

Dirtfoot's eyes grew wide. "WOT! That's not wot I fuckin'—"

"Can you ever forgive me?" asked Traegar with a smirk.

Longfang finally started to grin. "Of course mate! Jus' try not to use any more of my mates ta shield Dirtfoot from any arrows meant fer him!"

Traegar laughed. "I won't."

* * *

Log-a-Log and Kurwin were laughing so hard they were practically coughing. Both beasts were drunk from grog and shrewbeer, their bellies filled with all the vittles the Shrew Chieftain had stashed inside his hut. The beasts were both reminiscing about their younger days, where Kurwin wasn't so old and scarred, and Brugo wasn't so hairy and plump.

"Ye…ye couldn't even see straight!"

"An' wot 'bout you, eh? Hahahahaaaaa, you-you was naked an' couldn't stand still! And you had a fuckin' rapier in yore paws!"

"An' then I said to 'em, 'Don't matta if'n I'm naked! Yer still gettin' yer arse trounced!'"

More laughter broke out as the two beasts remembered the epic, albeit seemingly embarrassing memory when they were facing several bandits. Kurwin quaffed his bottle of grog before he shook his head and coughed. The fiery drink was starting to burn his throat more and more, but the corsair didn't care so long as he got more of it in his stomach.

"And we did it, didn't we?! A drunken ferret who couldn't see and a shrew with no clothes on took out six bandits!"

"Hehe, jus' goes ta show ye how 'powerful' this drink really is!"

Kurwin laughed again for a brief moment before he finished the rest of the grog in his bottle. He licked his lips after downing the intoxicating fluids and tossed the bottle on the floor as he began to breathe heavily. The ferret looked to his left and saw Barlo Arvack glance at him before swiftly turning his head away.

"And is there sumthin' you wanna tell me there?! You've been awfully quiet since I came in here, yet you keep lookin' in my direction! You got a problem mate?!"

Log-a-Log chuckled. "Clearly somebeast has drank a bit too much grog."

"No! This…that beast over there looked my way several times now, like he wanted to tell me somethin'! He don't like me bein' here, does he?"

"Just relax, Kurwin. He's my second in command, nothin' more or less! He's very loyal to me, an' a bit too protective. Barlo thinks everybeast is out t'get me!"

Kurwin ignored the Shrew Chieftain and stood up regardless. He sniffed and walked over to the shrew standing in the corner, trying his hardest not to stumble over his inebriation. The ferret stood in front of the second in command as he started to breathe heavily.

"I can smell attitude, shrew, and you reek of it. I don't like beasts who hold their tongues when they got somethin' to say. After all, how can we ever be friends if ya don't speak your opinions? So if yore gonna open yer mouth, you best do it _now_. You got a problem with me mate? You, uh, you think I'm gonna stab my good friend here in the back?"

Barlo was tired of being a mute, and he knew that vermin would think twice about getting in somebeast's face whenever one stood up to them, so the shrew folded his arms and scoffed.

"I don't like you, Kurwin. I know who you are and wot ye've done, and I don't approve of it. The only reason why I haven't thrust my rapier into you is 'cos my Chieftain here seems to like you, seems to see you as a 'valuable partner,' as a friend. As shocking as it sounds, I don't believe yore gonna stab me leader in the back. But yore a sickness, Kurwin, and I fear that one day, yore gonna infect Log-a-Log, and he's gonna die 'cos of you, 'cos of wot you did."

Kurwin, despite how drunk he was, managed to stare at the shrew with a smile on his face. He didn't even draw his cutlass or attempt to threaten Barlo in any way. The ferret chuckled.

"I appreciate yer honesty."

"Appreciate yores."

Log-a-Log exhaled deeply before he finished off the rest of his shrewbeer. "If ye two babes are done with yore pissin' match, let's get back to chattin' about the good ole days."

"There's other important things we need to talk about," said Kurwin as he returned to his chair and sat down.

"Like wot? The fact that you an' all ye corsairs aren't doin' enough to control these woods?"

The ferret sniffed. "These things take time, my friend. It's not like I plan to rule Mossflower overnight."

"An' wot plans _do_ you have? Recruitin' Juska vermin? Wanderin' the woods pickin' up any vermin ye see scattered across the country? Hmph, even you can do better'n that!"

"Since you're such an expert, why not suggest how I can accelerate my plans?"

"Easy! You ever heard of Blackheart?"

Kurwin flared his nostrils. "That Badrang wannabe?"

"More or less. But wannabe or not, he's got numbers on his side—somethin' ye'll need if'n ye even want a chance of takin' o'er these woods! Last I heard he's got a new fortress over on the Western Coast where he keeps his slaves."

"Thanks, but I'm better off stayin' far away from that ferret."

Log-a-Log laughed. "Now don't tell me that somebeast tryin' so hard t'be like Badrang the Tyrant scares ye!"

Kurwin snorted. "Course not! But I heard of all sorts of tales 'bout that ferret; he's not joinin' me crew!"

"But ye need more vermin, dont'cha? So wot's wrong with findin' this Blackheart feller an' lettin' him an' his soldiers join yer army?"

Kurwin growled deeply as he looked away from Log-a-Log in disgust. "That beast _repulses_ me. Just hearin' that fuckin' name brings up all sorts of bad memories. He's sloppy, he's a coward, and he only cares about his pride."

"Ye haven't even met the ferret!"

"Trust me, mate, I know his type! He preys on the innocent, on beasts he knows can't fight back! And there's that li'l incident with him an' those leverets…"

"Wot incident?"

Kurwin sighed heavily as he lied back in his chair and scratched his groin for a moment. The scarred ferret remembered the ghastly campfire story he heard a few seasons ago and growled again.

"Blackheart had twelve slaves who were all leverets. I dunno wot happened or why, but one day, some wanderers were walkin' through the woods when they found severed hare ears scattered about. _Small_ ears, Brugo; ears you'd see on leverets. Couple days go by, and some others travelers found severed paws scattered about. A few more days, footpaws show up. And then tongues, an' then eyes…"

Kurwin shut his eyes and spat on the floor before he sighed heavily and opened them back up. "It weren't long before somebeast found their severed heads, with the eyes and tongues torn out. So that's, wot, at least a hundred body parts? And fer wot?! That monster tortured an' killed a dozen leverets fer no fuckin' reason!"

Log-a-Log grinned. "I had no idea that Kurwin the Flayer had standards! Hehe, the beast that slices the skin an' fur right off his victims' bodies is appalled by some tyrant killin' a dozen young hares?"

"Tch! You know I've never gone _that_ far."

"Ye sure about that?"

Kurwin didn't answer. He just flashed the shrew a smug grin before he continued talking. "They call 'im Blackheart fer a reason, Brugo. I'm not bringin' anybeast that cruel into me crew. 'Sides, he's a slaver; slavers are all idiots. Wot's the point behind it anyway? You wanna force yerself into somebeast, just look for somebeast wanderin' 'round alone in the woods an' tackle 'em down! You wanna build somethin' to show off yer pride? Do it yerself or find yerself a good set of workers who _want_ to work for you; don't force somebeast to do it! It only takes another Martin the Warrior before all them slaves you captured rise up against you an' stand up to you!"

Kurwin got out of his chair. He huffed in frustration before he started to pace back and forth in the hut. Log-a-Log could see that Kurwin was about to go on one of his rants again, so he sat back in his chair and put his footpaws on the table.

"It appalls me sometimes that vermin like me turned into beasts like Slagar the Cruel, or Swartt Sixclaw, or Gruven fuckin' Zann! Kidnap all the young 'uns from Redwall? Well, good job, Slagar! Now all their mothers 'n' fathers are chasin' yer arse across the country, an' now those slaves of yers are too young and too weary to do wot you want 'em to do! Keep a badger as yer personal slave instead of killin' him? Good job, Swartt! Now he broke yer paw and wound up becomin' Badger Lord of Salamandastron!"

Kurwin suddenly stopped pacing and sighed as he pressed his back against the wall. The ferret looked down at the floor and shook his head.

"It's just sad, Brugo…we're vermin. We should be better than that. And sure, yeah, there's Cluny the Scourge and the Marlfox clan and Gulo the Savage, but let's face it: those woodlanders only see us as those vermin who cocked up their evil schemes 'cos of their pride or selfishness or stupidity. Petty beasts like Ublaz the Emperor, and cowards like that cunt Princess Kurda."

"Ye sure do know yore history, mate! Any reason why yore blastin' me with all these names o' dead vermin?"

"It's history that's gonna help me conquer this cursed forest. I know a lot about these vermin…about wot went wrong with their lives and how their armies and empires spiraled out of control an' were run into the ground. I just gotta make sure I don't make their mistakes, an' then I won't lose. Simple, right?"

"Not if ye don't have a plan…or rather, a good one. Like I said, ye ain't tryin' hard enough."

"Then wot do you propose I do, _other_ than findin' Blackheart an' his crew?"

Brugo laughed. "It's simple mate! You know of the Mossflower Squirrel Brigade, right?"

"Unfortunately."

"If ye wanna conquer this forest, then show them woodlanders a bit o' force! It's not too hard to stumble across one o' these squirrels. Ye foller an ant, sooner or later, ye'll find its colony!"

Kurwin caught on quickly. "…Yes, that's not a bad idea. Find one of these MSB camps and kill everybeast I see!"

"Exactly! And once they're all dead, word will spread—"

"—and these woodlanders will learn to fear me! And other vermin out there will come lookin' fer me, hopin' to join my legion!"

"But ye have t'be careful, friend, as this'll attract _other_ attention as well. Urthquake the Tough—the Badger Lord of Salamandastron—and all his hares have been patrollin' this forest slayin' any vermin they see or hear about. I can all but guarantee that he'll come lookin' fer ye after you strike the camp."

A very malicious grin appeared on Kurwin's face as he stared at Brugo. "Good. I'll just have to slay him too—him an' all those long-eared beasts of the Long Patrol! Hehehe…yes, th-this could actually work! I'll kill that badger, sever his head clean off an' put it on a pike! Then I'll go down as the first pirate who slew a Badger Lord an' lived to tell the tale! Vermin will swarm Mossflower, swarm Salamandastron! That mountain will be open for attack! Rats and foxes from the Northlands, mercenaries right here in this forest—everybeast will finally rise up and try to take over this forest!"

Log-a-Log stared at Kurwin as he giggled like a babe, sliding down and sitting on the floor of the hut. The grog was starting to mess with his mind and tiring him out. Kurwin wiped some slobber from his mouth before he started to ramble again.

"An-an' then…and then we…we might just do it, Brugo…we might have enough vermin on our side to bring down Redwall! If that happens…those woodlanders will be finished! They'll be no place left to hide!"

"Slow down there, Kurwin! One step at a time, my friend! Focus on findin' that MSB camp, _then_ worry about Urthquake an' the Long Patrol."

Kurwin breathed heavily as he slowly stood up, staggering a bit as he tried to stay still. "Yes…squirrels. Thank you, Brugo…you've been most helpful."

The shrew shrugged. "No problem mate!"

Kurwin hiccupped. "Now if you'll excuse me…I'm gonna go take a piss an' lie down."

The Shrew Chieftain didn't say anything as he watched the drunken ferret walk out of his hut. Once Kurwin was out of his field of vision, Brugo put his footpaws back on the floor and scoffed.

"Fuckin' idiot…"

Barlo couldn't stay quiet any longer. He stared at his Chieftain with a scowl on his face and huffed. "Wot are ye doin'?"

"Hmm?"

"Urthquake, Kurwin the Flayer—wot's this all about? Didn't ye just tell Urthquake—"

"I know wot I said, Barlo."

"Why are ye even helpin' that drunken slob?! Don't you know he's gonna get you killed, and mayhaps the rest of the Guosim?!"

Log-a-Log laughed softly as he turned around and faced his second in command. "My dear Barlo, I thought ye were much smarter'n this! I told Urthquake to look fer Kurwin an' his army. I told Kurwin to look fer Urthquake an' his army."

"Wot for?"

Brugo sighed. "Sooner or later, these two beasts are gonna run into each other. Only one will emerge victorious—whoever wins will be the beast we ally ourselves with! With any lucky, both armies will kill each other, an' we'll be the ones t'rule over this forest!"

Barlo just stared at his leader with wide eyes, his faith and loyalty in the shrew slowly dwindling. "S-so…so wot…we're just gonna sit here an' do nothin'?"

Log-a-Log grinned deviously at his second in command. "A spark has been lit, dear Barlo. I just added oil to the impending flames."

The Shrew Chieftain sighed as he turned back around and put his footpaws back on the table.

"Now let us sit back, relax, an' watch as this fire burns brightly."


End file.
